Prior Rings
by Windchimed
Summary: Follow the story of two rings from Tris' grandparents through the twists and turns of ending up on Tris and Tobias' fingers. Set mostly in the time gaps of my "Determinant" alternate third book, though the first chapter is set much earlier than that.
1. Chapter 1: Anna – Engaging

_**Disclaimer: I do not own "Divergent" or "Insurgent" or "Allegiant" or the characters, dialogue, plot lines, etc. that came from those books. All of that belongs to Veronica Roth.**_

_**Note: This story is consistent with the following stories by Veronica Roth: "Divergent," "Insurgent," "Free Four: Tobias Tells the Divergent Knife-Throwing Scene," and "Four: The Transfer: A Divergent Story." It is also consistent with my "Determinant" alternate third book. However, it is not consistent with "Allegiant" or with the later "Four" stories, since those conflict with key plot points that I had in place before they were published.**_

**Chapter 1: Anna – Engaging**

Douglas looks exceptionally handsome tonight. It's difficult to say why, since he's wearing the same black clothes he usually does, with his brown hair brushing the collar in the back and almost hanging into his eyes in the front. But those eyes shine more than they normally do, their deep green alive with joy. Not that he isn't happy in general – it's just that he tends to be more thoughtful, reflecting his Erudite roots. It's nice to see this level of delight in him.

"Where are we going tonight?" I ask. He's been dropping contradictory hints all week, so we could be doing pretty much anything.

"You'll find out, Anna," he says, grinning as he frames my face in his hands, running his thumbs lightly over my cheeks before leaning down to kiss me. It's still difficult for me to get used to this type of open affection, after growing up in Abnegation, but I love him too much to object. Besides, I'm Dauntless now, and after two years in this faction, it's certainly time for my habits to change.

"Come on," he says eagerly, grabbing my hand and tugging me with him into a run. That's something I love about living here – there's so much energy in our daily life compared with the sedate pace of my previous faction. At moments like this, I'm glad I transferred, though I still wonder if I would have if my mother hadn't died. As much as I love my father and sister, I couldn't get myself to stay for them, but for Mom? I probably would have.

Douglas leads me to the tracks, where a train is already passing by. He increases his pace at the sight, dragging me with him, and it's obvious he wants us to get on board. Personally, I'm doubtful we have time, but I race as fast as I can anyway, and to my surprise, we're able to leap onto the last car.

We're the only ones in it, and I grin at Douglas, knowing what he'll do. Sure enough, he lies down casually across the front of the opening, forming a human barrier between me and the ground zooming by us. I sit beside him, leaning on his hip as I watch the passing scenery. I don't even remember how we started this routine, but it's effective at preventing my motion sickness while allowing us to stay close. For his part, Douglas says he loves the way it leaves my hands free to explore. And the part of me that has thoroughly embraced my adopted faction does exactly that.

"Are you going to tell me yet?" I ask him, one hand moving under his shirt and tracing circles on his stomach.

"Not a chance," he laughs. "But I'll give you a hint." I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if this will be a real hint or not, given all the contradictions he's told me this week.

His eyes twinkle in amusement as he adds, "Pay attention to the shape of our route."

That isn't a terribly helpful statement, since I don't even know which train we're on and therefore don't know its route, but I assume it means we'll be riding for a while. I'll just have to wait and see where we go.

It's a beautiful fall day, with the sun shining from a blue sky and colors filling the trees we pass. We make our way gradually around the city, following the fence as it flows in a giant circle, enclosing the buildings that form four out of our five factions. Amity, of course, is located outside the city walls so there's adequate room to grow food, feed the livestock, and process our drinking water.

"Any guesses yet?" Douglas asks me as we approach an old building that I consider to be one of the hidden gems in our city. It used to house an art gallery, back in the days before war claimed so much of the world's population and left us isolated here. For whatever reasons, when it was abandoned, all of the statues were left in place. Perhaps they were too heavy to move, or maybe there was simply no one left to appreciate them, but they've remained there ever since.

Douglas took me there for our first date, over a year ago, and it's not hard to figure out that he's taking me back there now. I smile at him.

"Hmm, no idea," I tease him, moving my hand down lower and chuckling as his breath catches.

"Anna, you're going to be the death of me," he murmurs as he pulls my hand away from him with obvious reluctance. "But it's time to get off." He clears his throat. "Of the train, that is." I laugh.

Climbing to my feet, I take hold of the grab bar with one hand and offer the other to my boyfriend. He grasps it instantly, pulling himself up and watching the terrain as we approach the best spot to jump.

We leap together, our bodies twisting through the air in the wonderful dance that is Dauntless before we land, hitting the ground hard. It's automatic at this point to run forward a few steps to spread our momentum, and neither of us falls. Our hands are still linked as we come to a stop, grinning from the rush of adrenaline. I don't think I'll ever get tired of that.

Douglas takes the lead again, and I let him, even though it's obvious at this point where we're going.

The old art gallery is well lit at this time of day, with sunlight flooding through the yellowing glass of its many windows. The columns of light reflect beautifully off the statues, though they also highlight the dust particles floating through the air. I sneeze.

Douglas smirks at me. "I think you've just proven that the Abnegation are allergic to art."

"And dusty old schoolbooks," I add, straight-faced. "Which makes it difficult to hang out with a former Erudite like you."

He bumps me with his shoulder. "You love me anyway," he murmurs.

"That I do," I answer, still keeping my poker-face. "But only because you showed me this place. Otherwise, you know, I could take you or leave you."

He laughs. "Yes, I noticed how much you loved that one particular statue last time…." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, but I don't need the reminder to know which one he's referring to. That particular piece was rather eye-opening for someone from my birth faction.

"No," I comment, "that one was definitely _your_ favorite. Mine was this one over here…." He follows a step behind me as I work my way across the dusty floor to the massive sculpture I remember admiring for so long on our previous trip. It displays a waterfall that splashes down into a small lake, with two figures standing near where the waters crash together. Something about their pose struck me before – barely touching, yet with so much love evident between them. I suppose they reminded me of my parents.

As I look at them this time, an odd reflection catches my attention, and I realize that one of the figures has a ring perched carefully on her outstretched palm. It's a simple gold band with a small but elegant diamond on it, and for a moment, I can't imagine what it's doing here.

The answer strikes me at the same time Douglas drops to one knee.

"Anna," he says softly, holding my eyes with his as he gently takes my hand. "I know this will sound cliché, but I have been in love with you since the first moment I saw you. You have made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and there is _nothing_ I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you. Would you…please…marry me?"

He bites his lip, his expression such a mix of adoration and confidence and nervousness all at the same time that I can't help but smile.

"Oh, get up, you idiot," I whisper, my grin spreading ear to ear despite the tears I can feel building in my eyes. "Of course I'll marry you."

He startles me by picking me up on his shoulder and spinning me around, crowing in wild, infectious joy, before he puts me down and kisses me. I'm almost laughing too hard to respond, but the feel of him against me is impossible to ignore, and soon we're kissing more deeply than we ever have before. I can't quite believe this is real. We're together. We're truly, permanently together. I have never been happier.

"I do have one request, though," I murmur as he slides the ring onto my finger. His green eyes meet mine curiously, and I bite my lip, feeling oddly nervous.

"Can we keep my last name?" I blurt it out before adding the explanation. "It reminds me of my mother."

If anything, his smile grows deeper. "I fell in love with everything about you, Anna Prior," he says unwaveringly. "Including your name. Why _wouldn't_ I want to keep that?"

* * *

It's not until we're most of the way back to the Dauntless compound that I figure out his comment from earlier in the day. We rode the train in a circle, stopping at the hidden gem so he could propose. I never would have thought it possible, but somehow my wonderful boyfriend turned the whole city into an engagement ring.

* * *

_**A/N: The next few chapters will be from Tobias' POV and will be set between Chapters 44 and 45 in my "Determinant" alternate third book. If you haven't read that yet, please do so before reading Chapter 2 or you'll be very confused...**_

_**Please take a moment to write a review letting me know what you thought about this chapter. I'll be updating this story along with my "Becoming Determinant: Tobias' Story" fic, so if you want me to update one more than the other, feel free to voice your opinion. Thanks!**_


	2. Chapter 2: Tobias - Revelation

_**A/N: If you haven't read my "Determinant" alternate third book, please do that before you read this chapter. Seriously!**_

_**For the rest of you, this is the first of a series of chapters (probably at least five) that are set between c****hapters 44 and 45 in "Determinant" (during the time when Tris and Tobias are apart). As you might be able to guess from that timing, this stretch of "Prior Rings" will be very heavy in angst. But it is leading somewhere...**_

**Chapter 2: Tobias – Revelation**

"Do you have a little time, Four?" Zeke asks in too casual a tone as I enter the gathering room. I look at him suspiciously, noticing that he's sitting with Uriah and Christina, who both look extremely nervous. Shauna is to the side of them, moving herself back and forth slightly in her wheelchair as she purses her lips in aggravation. This can't be good.

"What's up?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and standing rigidly in place. I just finished a rough therapy session with Amar, so I'm already in a bad mood, and I can't imagine it will be improved by hearing whatever has the four of them looking like this.

"It can wait," Uriah says quickly, but Christina jabs him hard in the ribs.

"He has something to tell you," she says firmly, glaring at him before looking at me. "That you need to know before you decide if he can move in here or not."

I'm liking this less and less. I already told them all that I was fine with Uriah joining our mini-faction. In fact, I specifically said I liked the idea. But obviously they think that I might change my mind after I hear this.

"Just spit it out," I growl.

Uriah runs a hand along the back of his neck the way I do when I'm nervous. It's a habit he probably picked up from my broadcast, like how Christina and Cara both bite their lips now the way Tris always did. Probably still does.

"Um…" he begins, "it's…um…about something that happened before I left Philadelphia." My insides freeze with a sudden suspicion. _No._ Please tell me this isn't going where I think it's going….

Uriah swallows hard. "You know that Tris was really broken up when you left, right?" He looks at me defensively, but I don't respond. Of course I know that. I hate what I did to her. I hate everything about it. But I was more afraid of what might have happened if I'd stayed.

"Well," he continues, shifting his gaze to his hands, "It bothered me to see her like that. She deserved better, you know?" He shrugs, still staring down, and I still don't answer. I don't think I'm capable of speaking right now.

"And you know I've always liked her." The words dig into me, reinforcing my earlier suspicion, and I can feel sweat prickling on my forehead. He looks up defiantly. "She was in one of my simulations, so you know it's true. You saw it."

"Get on with it," Zeke says shortly, his voice rough. I'm not sure whether to feel grateful for his interference or not.

"Fine," Uriah says more quietly. "Well, I just thought that if you couldn't get your shit together and go back to her, she should at least know that she has options. So, I told her how I feel." _No no no no no…. This can't be happening._

"And then I kissed her."

I don't think I move. I don't think I'm even breathing anymore. As far as I can tell, the world has ended, and I'm just frozen in the space it used to occupy. But my perceptions must be off, judging by how Zeke suddenly has his hands pressed firmly against my chest and by how Christina is yelling at me to take a walk, to get out, to just get out of here for now. The words finally reach my brain, and then I'm stumbling blindly out of the room and out of the building and who knows where from there.

I have no sense of time. My feet march beneath me, covering what could be blocks or miles in an endless stream of steps as the same image burns in front of my eyes. His lips pressed to hers. His arms around her. His body against hers. There's no air left in this universe.

_Tris is mine!_ The thought is so savage it scares me, reminding me of a hundred other cries of jealousy spouted out at my support meetings. She's not _mine_. I know she's not. Even if I hadn't left her, she doesn't _belong_ to anyone. She's free to do what she wants. But oh how I want her to be mine.

And Uriah was only in Philadelphia for a month longer than I was. I'm nowhere near ready to move on, but Tris was kissing someone else just weeks after I left? The thought practically digs flesh out of me.

This wasn't supposed to happen. I've been working so hard at this stupid support program, trying to get to where I can trust myself, to where I can be with Tris again. But she doesn't even want that. And why would she, when she can have Uriah? Kind, handsome Uriah who would never hit her, would never abandon her. How can I ever compete with _him_?

It's hard to say how many times I return to my faction, not even sure what I want except to somehow hear that it's all a joke, that it never happened, that _his_ lips never touched _hers_. But each time Christina sends me away again, telling me to keep walking it off. As if it's possible to walk enough to lose these feelings.

Eventually, I realize I need to hit something, and if I can't use the exercise room at home, I know where there's another one. My feet find it on their own, storming into Dauntless as if I'm hoping that someone will try to stop me. Any excuse for a fight. But I must look terrifying, because no one gets in my way even in the faction of the brave. Instead, they let me pass, muttering behind me as I pound the familiar old path to the training room and rip into the largest punching bag they have.

I hit it again and again until my hands are bleeding and sweat is pouring down my body and my limbs are trembling and barely able to move. And still the image is pressing into my mind, the thought of their bodies intertwining.

Out of some old habit, I head back to my former apartment, the place I lived for two years. But the door is locked, and I realize someone else must live here now. Briefly, I think it must be Uriah, taking something else of mine, but it's a stupid thought.

I make my way up to the Pire, glaring at anyone who looks at me, and I'm almost out of the building when I stop, turning around to satisfy some inner desire for even more pain. _The fear landscape room is right there._

It's not surprising that no one has changed the codes to the storage closet or the computer room. They rarely bothered even when this place was secured against outsiders. Now that parts of it are open to the public, they clearly don't care. So, I help myself to the serum and set the computer up as if I never left this place. And then I enter my landscape.

The building is taller than ever. I suppose that indicates progress – that I can handle heights which would have bothered me in the past. But all I can think of is how Tris jumped with me the time I took her in here. How she led me through that fear like she led me through the others. God, I miss her.

The image of her and Uriah still floats before me as I leap into the air, letting the simulation take me. It's probably my hardest landing yet.

I'm stuck in the box forever. It seems to have taken the shape of a coffin, and I feel like I'm buried alive in it, unable to see and utterly bereft of hope. I remember my hand on Tris' chest, her heartbeat fluttering under my palm as she told me to breathe with her, but the memory makes me feel even more alone and makes it even harder to find air.

Eventually, something clicks inside me, and I can't stand being in here anymore, and I find myself kicking the wall away and climbing out, uncertain how I actually managed it.

I wish I was back in it when I see the next fear.

I'm sitting in the back row of a small church, and Uriah is standing at the front, dressed in what is unmistakably a groom's tuxedo. Zeke and Amar and George are with him, happy grins on all their faces as they wait for the bride. I don't even have to look to know who it is, but my eyes are drawn to her anyway.

Tris looks more beautiful than I have ever seen her as she walks down the aisle. Her face is lit with joy, and her dress flows behind her as the wedding march plays. She doesn't even glance at me as she passes, her eyes focused only on Uriah, and the sick feeling inside me is so intense I feel like it will actually kill me at any moment.

I seem to be frozen in place, unable to move or protest or even look away as they exchange their vows and then lean forward into a kiss that lasts an eternity. Gone. She's gone. I've lost her forever. And it was all my fault.

I'm not entirely sure what triggers the landscape to move on. It certainly doesn't feel like my heartbeat has slowed, but I suppose it must have because the scene eventually changes.

Tris is in my arms. She's pressing herself to me, kissing me, and it feels so _right_ that I forget where I am and forget that if she's here it must be as part of a fear. Instead, I pull her to me desperately, kissing her with everything I am. I've missed this so much. I've missed _her_ more than I ever thought possible.

She winds her fingers through my hair, holding me to her, and my hands are under her shirt, feeling her smooth skin as the kisses deepen.

"I've missed you so much, Tris," I murmur against her mouth, breathing in her incredible scent. "I love you."

But I can feel her going stiff in my arms, and I pull away enough to look at her. She's terrified. Her eyes are wide, staring at something behind me, and she's backing away, holding her hands up defensively.

"No, please don't," she whispers, and I ache at the fear in her voice. "Please don't."

My body seems to be locked in place, unable to turn and see what she's looking at. Unable to move to defend her.

"Please, Peter," she begs. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

And then I see him moving in on her, his expression vicious. He looks so much like my father always did, anger and hatred etched into every line of his face.

"You didn't mean to _cheat_ on me?" he asks almost softly. But it's a dangerous kind of soft. "With _him_, of all people? You think I'll just put up with this?"

Peter strikes her hard across the face, a back-handed blow that whips her head to the side and causes a cracking sound to shatter the room. I can tell he's broken her jaw.

She crumples to the floor, trying to defend herself as he hits her again and again, powerful punches and kicks that leave her bleeding and sobbing and curled into a ball as she attempts to protect herself. I'm fighting to move with every ounce of my being, but my muscles are still locked in place. I can't even shout, can't even cry. All I can do is watch as he beats her over and over. _No. God, no. Stop this!_

When he finally leaves, my muscles unlock, and I race to her, cradling her bloody form in my arms as her breath rattles in and out of her.

"Tris! Tris, please look at me. Please be okay. Please!"

She opens her eyes, and I'm frozen again at the hatred in them. "You did this," she hisses with her dying breath. "I only married him because you left me. This is all your fault."

And as the life leaves her eyes, I know she's right. I've failed her in every possible way. _I did this._

* * *

**_A/N: If you need to be cheered up now, please feel free to reread the last few chapters of "Determinant." In the meantime, reviews? If you're not too sad?  
_**


	3. Chapter 3: Tobias - Conversations

_**A/N: Sorry to take a little while to post this chapter! I'm back from vacation now but am trying to catch up on everything, and I'm really far behind in my writing at the moment. In the meantime, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really appreciate your encouragement. Thank you also to my great beta reader, Rosalie!**_

_**To clear up any confusion over Tobias' fear landscape, the landscape itself locked his muscles in place in order to force him to watch helplessly. He didn't freeze in fear in response to what he was watching. I just wanted to clarify that before continuing.**_

* * *

**Chapter 3: Tobias – Conversations**

"Help me understand your reasoning, Tobias." Kevin's voice is as frustrated as I've ever heard it. "You learn that Tris kissed someone else, and you decide to go into your _fear landscape_? Exactly what were you expecting to see in there? Puppy dogs and rainbows?"

"It wasn't one of my better ideas," I mumble, holding my head in my hands as the rest of my body sags into the large leather chair in Kevin's living room. All the fury seems to have drained out of me, and I barely have the strength to sit at this point.

Kevin groans in apparent agreement. "Yeeaaah, it takes a special kind of masochist for that one." The comment should probably annoy me, but I'm too tired to care. Besides, he's undoubtedly right.

He sits back on his couch, his long limbs draped across it with that odd mix of tension and relaxation he conveys so often, and sighs. "Fine," he finally says. "What's done is done." It's a phrase we use in group sessions a lot. We can't change the past, so we just have to move forward as best we can from whatever happened. "Let's see what we can learn from it."

I nod. Out of all the people I could have asked to be my sponsor, Kevin was the one I knew I needed. Tall and tough, his dark skin covered in tattoos, he shows his Dauntless roots as much as the Erudite habits he adopted after choosing that faction a decade ago. Most people find him intimidating, but to me he seems familiar – and easier to be around than the rest of the group, with their Erudite mannerisms that remind me too much of Jeanine and all the reasons we fought a war.

Like me – like all of us in the group – Kevin was abused throughout his childhood. He joined the program after his girlfriend left him, becoming factionless to escape from him, and he realized he had become his father. Eight years later, he stays to help the rest of us, and maybe because the group just means that much to him.

My voice is low as I describe my fears, and what was different about them today. I don't leave anything out, and he doesn't interrupt.

"Marcus wasn't in the landscape at all?" he asks thoughtfully after I finish.

"No. Not in any form." I rub my temples. "I assume because he's dead."

Kevin shakes his head, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. "That doesn't usually matter. The fear stays anyway."

We're both silent for a moment as he thinks further, absent-mindedly scratching the stubble along the side of his square jaw. "And you didn't hit anyone in it?" he asks.

"No. I couldn't even move during most of it. The landscape locked me in place so I'd have to just watch." An involuntary shudder passes through me at the memory of being held rigidly like that, completely unable to help Tris. I've seen the landscape freeze others that way before, but this is the first time it's happened to me.

Kevin nods, pursing his lips as he sits back again. "All things considered," he says slowly, contemplatively, "I'd have to call that progress."

I stare at him blankly, unable to form a response. It certainly didn't _feel_ like progress.

He smiles a little, obviously understanding what I'm thinking.

"It's still a fear landscape, and you went in at the worst possible time, so I'm sure it sucked royally. But you didn't hurt anyone, and you didn't turn into your father, and you didn't have to cower as someone beat you. Overall, that shows significant progress in overcoming your past."

I shake my head in protest, trying to clear the image of Peter beating Tris from my mind. "There was still abuse…" I finally say.

"Of course there was," Kevin answers somewhat dismissively. "It's been the most consistent theme in your life. It's not going to vanish just because you're in a support group, but I don't think abuse was truly your fear this time. It seems more like a standard afraid-of-losing-the-person-you-love fear. We all have that."

He reaches out, placing a hand on my shoulder. Maybe he's right about progress, because I don't wince away from the friendly gesture.

"Tobias, trust me. Half the guys in group would have turned into their abuser if they entered a simulation at a time like that, and they would have killed both their ex and the new guy. You did okay."

I nod a little, but for some reason, his words bother me. It takes a moment to realize it's because he referred to Tris as my ex.

"I don't know how to handle this," I admit, my voice rough. "I still love her, and it hurts like hell to think she doesn't love me back."

Kevin's eyes meet mine as a long sigh escapes from him. "Believe me, I know," he says almost gently. It's a strange sound, coming from him. He's not exactly the type to coddle people.

"When I found out Elena had gotten married…. Well, let's just say that was the hardest time in my life." He pauses, and I can see the residual pain in his expression. "But you have to keep going. Tris might or might not get together with someone else. And you might or might not have to see them that way. For that matter, the two of you might or might not ever get back together. Sometimes, it works out, and sometimes it doesn't. You can't let any of that drive your life."

His eyes lock on mine, making sure he has my attention before he adds, "You just have to keep working to be the person you want to be."

We're silent again as I think about that. "Does it ever get easier?" I finally ask, my voice quiet. The Dauntless in me feels like it's a pathetic question, but I ask it anyway. I need to know there's some kind of hope ahead.

"Absolutely," he answers emphatically. "It's slow, but…yeah, life improves a lot with time." He gives a half smile. "I'm never going to spew lollipops from my butt or anything, but I'm definitely much happier than I was. And as hard as it was to get over Elena, I have to say that I love Miriam even more. So, sometimes change is for the better, even if it doesn't seem that way when you're struggling through it."

But I can't help shaking my head at that. It's impossible to imagine spending my life with anyone except Tris.

Kevin seems to understand, because he claps my shoulder again lightly. "Give it time," he says. His expression is difficult to read as he adds, "And if it comforts you at all…you'll notice that Uriah didn't stay in Philadelphia. And Tris didn't come back here with him. So, consider this a trial run, but I wouldn't say she's moved on just yet."

I close my eyes, digesting that, and slowly, something deep inside me unclenches. For the first time in hours, I can breathe.

* * *

The others are still grouped in the gathering room when I finally return to my faction. Christina looks at me, and I decide to preempt any reaction.

"I talked to Kevin." She closes the mouth she had just opened and nods instead. We have a deal that I'll talk to one of them at times like this, since bottling everything up wasn't exactly helping me, but it can be her or Zeke or Kevin.

"Okay," she says simply. "So, what's the verdict on Uriah?"

My muscles tense at the sound of his name – and even more when I see him still sitting on the couch – but this time I'm able to control my reaction. My gaze takes him in, noticing his anxious expression and the way he fidgets as he sits there. It's obvious he feels guilty, and from my perspective, he should. He betrayed my friendship.

But at the same time…I can't say he was entirely wrong. He's liked Tris from the beginning, the same way I have. Zeke talked him into going after Marlene instead, for my sake, but who knows what would have happened if he hadn't done that. Tris could easily have chosen him.

And suddenly I realize that's what it all boils down to. I don't care that Uriah likes Tris. Well, I do, but I can't blame him for it. She's pretty damned likeable. What matters is how _she_ feels.

"Did she kiss you back?" I ask him.

Uriah's eyes close briefly as he shakes his head a little. "No…." But he doesn't sound very sure of that. "She kind of…froze. I think she was too shocked to react." His face turns a bit sad as he adds, "But it was pretty clear she wasn't interested."

It's as if all the pressure that has been pushing into me releases itself at once, leaving my legs almost rubbery with relief. I can't say I feel joy in this moment – it's not a day for that – but the pain is certainly less.

I nod a couple of times. "You can still move in," I tell him gruffly.

Uriah doesn't answer, and I'm not sure he believes me, but I'm too drained to discuss it more. Instead, I start walking away, heading for my room.

I'm halfway to the door when Zeke says, "But you know she will move on at some point, right? Whether with Uri or someone else. You're going to have to deal with that sooner or later without killing anyone."

My entire body stops. However much I hate it, Zeke is right. It's only a matter of time. And the bottom line is that Tris deserves to be happy. If she finds that with someone else, it's my job to live with it, even if I have no idea how.

"I know, Zeke," I say resignedly, not turning around. "Just let me take it one day at a time."

* * *

_**A/N: As I mentioned above, I'm really behind in my writing at the moment, so it might be a week before the next update. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Your reviews do more than anything else to support me and encourage me to write, and I appreciate them very, very much!**_


	4. Chapter 4: Tobias - New Direction

_**A/N: I'm really sorry this chapter took so long. Between being gone for vacation, have family visit here, getting my daughter back to college, having my son start school, being extremely busy at work, and getting sick, it's been a long haul. And my poor beta reader is just as busy, so we're not having much luck coordinating our schedules right now.**_

_**Anyway, thank you so much for your patience, and for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! I truly appreciate them.**_

**Chapter 4: Tobias – New Direction**

Images from my fear landscape haunt me all night, both when I'm awake and in my dreams, until I finally give up on sleep and go to the exercise room.

My knuckles are still swollen and sore from pummeling the bag yesterday, so I opt to practice my kicks, slamming my feet hard into the dummy again and again as I let my mind clear.

I don't like how directionless I feel. For sixteen years, my goal was simple – to get through each day with as few injuries as possible, hoping to somehow be free, someday. When I transferred to Dauntless, I finally had that, only to find it didn't sit well. I felt out of place and found myself planning to leave, even though there was nowhere specific I wanted to go and nothing specific I wanted to do.

Things were different when I was with Tris. I still didn't know where I belonged, but I could face life with her by my side, and I could begin to figure out everything else. She gave me a focus, I guess – I could be selfless and brave and smart for her, and even sometimes honest and kind, or at least loving. It's always been easy to love her, even when it's been most difficult to actually be with her.

I suppose that's part of why it's so hard to let her go. She brought out the best in me, and I don't want to lose those parts of myself any more than I want to lose her.

My heel smacks into the dummy with a satisfying _thunk_, and I pause to watch it sway back and forth as Kevin's words drift through my mind again. Whatever happens with Tris, I can't let it drive my life. I have to find a way to keep working toward being the person I want to be.

It's hard to face that reality, but I know that Kevin is right. And it's not like I haven't made any progress without Tris. I've grown a lot since I returned to Chicago, and not just because of the support group. It made a difference to build this faction from the beginning, writing its manifesto along with Cara and George and Amar and then repairing apartments for all of us and for our other members as they joined. The whole process helped me figure out how I want to live and what traits I truly value.

I've helped with plenty of other new factions, too, putting in long hours on so many days, even though I don't technically have to work. The "hero's pension" the city gives those of us who went on the mission is enough to cover our living expenses. But the work helps other people, and it feels good to do that. It's another form of progress.

Shifting my stance, I start side kicks, striking with the blade of my right foot.

It would feel good to do something for Tris, I realize abruptly. Even if I never end up being around her again, and even if she never learns about or appreciates my efforts, I would feel better if I helped her somehow.

The question is how…. It can't just be something that makes her happy for a moment. It needs to be something that lasts – something that improves her life into the future. Something permanent.

I pause, steadying the dummy with my hands before resuming my kicks.

Family is important to her. When she was at Dauntless, she struggled with having left her parents behind, and I know how deeply it hurt her when they died. A twinge goes through me as I remember telling her that _I'd_ be her family. I broke that promise. But I'm not sure there's anything I can do about it now. I'm out of the picture, at least for the moment, and she's already become close to the only family she has left: her grandmother, Anna, and her brother, Caleb.

She'll gain more family someday, if she ever gets married.

I kick again, trying to shove the images from my fear landscape away, but they stay anyway. Tris looked so beautiful in her wedding gown. If I push my own desires aside, I know I want that for her. She deserves to have a family of her own someday. To marry someone who will always be good to her, who will love her deeply and truly, and whom she will love. To have children she will care for the way her own parents cared for her.

My next kick connects too hard with the dummy, causing it to spin wildly in circles. I watch it for a moment, and slowly a detail that I didn't notice yesterday slips into my consciousness. The ring that Uriah placed on Tris' finger was familiar. I close my eyes, seeing it on a pawn shop counter in Pittsburgh so long ago. Anna's ring.

And suddenly I know what I need to do for Tris.

* * *

"I don't know, Tobias," Kevin says hesitantly. "That sounds more like an attempt to hang on to Tris than to let her go."

I shake my head firmly. "No. It's not for me. I'm not even planning to give it directly to Tris – I'll return it to Anna instead, and she can give it to Tris later, whenever it's appropriate." I rub a hand along the back of my neck, trying to come up with the right words to explain my thoughts.

"It just never felt right to sell that ring. We didn't have a choice, so we did it, but we both knew it was wrong." I look up, meeting Kevin's gaze levelly as I continue.

"Her parents are dead, and the Abnegation don't keep personal belongings, so there's nothing left of them at all. She doesn't even have photos of them. But from everything I know, her grandparents loved each other, and they loved her mom. I feel like that ring connects them, and it's the only heirloom the family has. Tris should have it…for…whoever she ends up marrying."

As my voice falters, Kevin presses his lips into a line, and I know he still doesn't think it's a good idea for me to do this. Maybe it doesn't matter – it's not like I need his permission to go. Still, I want him to understand, so I add my last reason.

"It's my way of making amends."

He lets out a long sigh as he sits back, sinking into the couch and watching me while he thinks. "How do you know Tris hasn't already retrieved the ring?" he asks carefully.

But I just shake my head. "I don't see how she could have. At first, she was injured, and since then she's been running a country. It's not like she could take the time to go after it in person, and it would be pointless to send someone else. The only name on the store was "PAWN," and there was no visible address. It took us forever to find it, and our guide is now dead. So, it would be virtually impossible to send someone there, and even if they found it, they wouldn't be able to pick out the right ring."

I face him squarely as I add, "I really feel this is up to me."

Kevin nods a little, still looking thoughtful. "Okay, then," he says simply. "I'll take some time off work."

Those aren't the words I expected. "Are you offering to come with me?" I ask, surprised and not entirely sure what to make of that idea. There aren't many people whose help I'd want for this, but Kevin is certainly one of them.

"Yeah," he answers slowly, "I think that's only fair. My sponsor went out of his way to assist me with something big once upon a time, so I should pay the favor forward." He nods again, as if he's convincing himself, and then adds, "Besides, I've been curious to see the outside world."

I can't help but smile a little at that. "Bring a nose plug" is my only response.

* * *

"I'm going to Pittsburgh for a week or so," I state flatly at the dinner table. I don't really want to explain what I'm doing, but I know it wouldn't be fair to my faction-mates to simply vanish for that long without at least mentioning it. Besides, George, Cara, and I will need to make arrangements to cover Amar's therapy during my absence.

Christina coughs violently, apparently startled enough to choke on the mouthful of food she was in the middle of swallowing.

"_Pittsburgh?_ What could possibly make you want to go back there?" she sputters, wrinkling her nose at the memory of how bad the entire city smelled.

I can feel a slight flush start to crawl up my cheeks at where I know this conversation will go, but I answer anyway.

"We left something there."

Christina narrows her eyes suspiciously. "What something?"

For a second, I just stare at her, surprised she has to ask. But as I look around the group, I see nothing but confusion on their faces, and it finally dawns on me that none of them ever realized Anna gave us her ring. We left the bomb shelter in such a rush, and there wasn't a lot of conversational time after that. Tris and I are probably the only ones who knew.

With that realization comes a second one. I don't want to tell them exactly what I'm doing. They don't need to know, and it feels too private to share.

"We sold something at the pawn shop," I answer neutrally, "that I'd like to get back. It was an old family heirloom."

There's a pause while they digest that. My father did give me my mother's ring while we were in the bomb shelter, and the others might well have observed that act. It's believable that I'm trying to retrieve it.

"You must really want it back," Cara comments, looking thoughtful but not overly suspicious, "to be traveling that far for it. Are you sure they still have it?"

"No," I tell her truthfully, not wanting to think about that possibility. "But the longer I wait, the less likely it is they'll have it, and I need to at least try."

Apparently, that answer appeases them, because the conversation migrates to how they'll cover my share of the faction chores while I'm gone. Currently, I'm mostly working on preparing an apartment for Uriah, and frankly I'm not in the mood for that after yesterday anyway, so it doesn't bother me when Amar and George volunteer to finish that task.

"I can give you a hand, too," Zeke offers, but George waves him off good-naturedly.

"No, we've got it," he says, smiling fondly at Amar. "I think we both enjoy the hands-on work." And that's probably true. Increasingly, they've been helping me with projects in the building, and it seems to be therapeutic for Amar. It's still difficult for him to go out into the city, with all the unpredictable interactions with strangers that leads to, but he gets thoroughly bored being cooped up here all the time with nothing to do.

"What about the Monday and Friday sessions?" Cara asks, nodding with her chin toward Amar. Lately, George has been handling each Wednesday's therapy, but I still do the other two sessions a week. And missing those does make me a little nervous. Amar has been making slow progress, and I don't want to mess that up in my attempt to do something for Tris.

"I'll have them with George," Amar answers Cara, somewhat unexpectedly. "I've been wanting to work more on my Erudite skills anyway."

Cara and I exchange a quick look, and I can tell she's as hesitant about that idea as I am. The Amity pathways in Amar's brain are still enlarged from my broadcast, so we've been focusing the therapy sessions on building up his existing Dauntless pathways, with the goal of getting him to use those more so the Amity ones will gradually shrink. I'm not sure how successful it will be to work on his weaker pathways – Erudite and Candor and Abnegation. They might not distract him enough from the Amity ones.

Cara voices her doubt before I can respond. "I don't think you should experiment while Four is away," she says warily. "It's better to keep the focus on Dauntless for now."

Amar shrugs, looking slightly rebellious, and a sudden suspicion goes through me. I glance at George for confirmation, and the slight blush on his face tells me I'm right.

"You've already been working on the Erudite pathways, haven't you?" George's blush deepens, and Amar's eyes dart away guiltily, while Cara simply looks livid.

"What?!" she all but shouts. "We've been designing and tracking the _entire_ therapy approach in _minute_ detail for _months_, and you two just go and do something different on your own? Do you know how risky that is?"

For a moment, we're all silent, frozen by Cara's outburst. She almost never loses her temper, and _everyone_ is careful not to yell at Amar, so everything about this feels strange. But the interesting thing is that it's not affecting my former instructor the way I would have expected. He's not backing down, or looking distressed, or losing his fragile self-control. If anything, Cara's tirade seems to have brought out the Dauntless in him. And suddenly it occurs to me that we've been tip-toeing around him too much.

"Cara," I say firmly, drawing her attention away from George, whom she's currently glaring at. "When you think about it, what they did is very Dauntless. They took a chance, even though it was risky and involved breaking rules." My eyes flit to Amar, and the corner of my mouth tugs upward. "And now they're in trouble for it. You can't get more Dauntless than that."

Amar grins at me, and I turn back to Cara as I add, "I don't have a problem with this."

She opens her mouth to protest but then closes it again as she realizes I have a point. "How long have you been doing this?" she finally asks George.

"Five weeks," he admits. Cara's jaw twitches as she bites back a response, but I chuckle.

"Well, then, it's obviously not causing problems," I say in what I hope is a calming tone. "So, it sounds like George can project Dauntless traits on Monday and Friday while I'm gone, and Erudite traits on Wednesday, and everything should be good?"

I quirk a questioning eyebrow at the others. Cara still looks thoroughly annoyed, but George and Amar nod in agreement.

"I won't leave until Tuesday," I add, trying to pacify Cara a bit. "So we can do a trial run on Monday to make sure it'll work."

"Fine," she mutters, giving George a last dirty look before refocusing on her dinner. But personally, I feel a lot better for having learned about this whole situation. It reassures me that George is able to adjust the therapy around his husband's needs – and that Amar is stronger than I've given him credit for.

It frees me up to make this trip work.

**_A/N: Please take a moment to let me know how this chapter worked. I read and truly appreciate every review, and they motivate me more than anything else to carve out time to write. Thanks!_**


	5. Chapter 5: Tobias - Pittsburgh

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! And thank you to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_

_**To clear up any confusion, this story is not set entirely during the time that Tris and Tobias are apart. It will continue during this time frame for a while longer and then will shift to later and will go through their engagement and wedding. So, there's definitely Fourtris coming. In the meantime, the focus is on the characters' personal growth, on the growth of the new country, and on what's happening around the rings (the second one will be introduced later). :-)**_

**Chapter 5: Tobias – Pittsburgh**

We spend the rest of the week preparing for the trip. One of George's friends from the bomb shelter, Alexis, is able to convert my Chicago credits to money that will work in Pittsburgh, and I swap enough to cover anything we can reasonably expect to encounter. But being the deeply cynical person I am, I also buy some jewelry to take along, just in case. It'll give me something to sell or trade if needed.

It's a relief when Alexis offers to lend us a car, too. There are plenty of abandoned ones around the city, but it's a gamble whether any given one would be up to such a long trip, so it's better to have one we know is working well. We also bring extra gas, though it should be safe to refuel along the way this time, without NUSA soldiers waiting to ambush us.

George does well with the therapy session on Monday, or more accurately, Amar responds to it well, relieving the few nagging doubts I had, and I find myself feeling unusually settled that night. For the first time since Uriah's admission, I sleep well, dreaming for some reason about Tris and Anna walking around Pittsburgh handing out rings to the poor.

Kevin and I head out early Tuesday morning, both in surprisingly good moods. I have no illusions that this will be an easy task, but it's been a long time since I've done something that feels so right.

The drive seems to take forever. It's difficult to compare it to the last one, with Tris by my side as we headed into unknown danger, but there's no question that the roads are still in awful condition, and it takes ages to trudge along them. I end up teaching Kevin how to drive as we go, to fill the time and to give me a break from being behind the wheel. He picks it up quickly, which is hardly surprising for a Dauntless-Erudite mix, and he seems to enjoy it.

We talk more than I would have expected as we go, about a wide variety of subjects. It helps, I suppose, that Kevin has spent a decade in Erudite, learning thousands of useless facts – and some interesting ones. I'll never share Caleb's fascination with the water filtration equipment in Amity, but it's somewhat intriguing to hear about how the train lines in Chicago were expanded and reduced over the years and how the trains themselves operate.

We refill the gas tank in Toledo, and I notice that there are still blood stains from where Robert and the NUSA soldiers we killed once lay. Someone obviously retrieved the bodies, since there aren't any bones or decaying forms left behind, and I wonder vaguely who did that – and if it was on Tris' orders. It wouldn't surprise me if she remembered her dead friend, while I left him lying there without a second thought.

After a little debate, we decide to spend the night in a long-abandoned building a few blocks from the gas station. We spread our sleeping bags on the hard floor and then end up sleeping on top of them, since it's too hot for their stifling warmth. It's certainly not comfortable, but I've dealt with far worse, so I don't say anything. Kevin doesn't complain, either. I'm not sure if it's the Dauntless left in him, or if he's thinking about how his former girlfriend was forced to live after he drove her into factionlessness.

We leave before five o'clock the next morning and drive almost straight through, stopping only briefly to eat some of the food we brought with us. Shortly after noon, we reach the hilly terrain outside Pittsburgh. I'm driving at that point, and I think about turning the wheel over to Kevin, but it seems to be mildly easier to face my fears when I'm in control of the car, so I end up staying where I am and focusing on breathing as we cross the peaks.

The entrance to the city is the same hell I remember from last time, with its never-ending tunnel that empties onto a bridge high over the water. Kevin keeps giving me worried looks and reminding me to breathe, and I'm pretty sure I leave permanent imprints from my fingers on the steering wheel, but I make it to the other end of the bridge in one piece. That presumably counts as some kind of victory.

It's harder to remember the route from here, since it was dark the last time I was in this city, and I was too caught up in my fears and in facing my father to notice every turn. So, I settle for taking the same highway exit that Amar took, and then I pull over to the side of the road.

"Is this it?" Kevin asks, looking around uncertainly, as if he's expecting the pawn shop to be in sight.

"It's as close as I know how to get us," I tell him plainly. "From here, we'll have to ask for directions and do a lot of searching."

He nods, his mouth flattening in mild distaste as he looks around. I can't blame him. The place still looks terrible compared with faction life in Chicago, with slime on many buildings and trash on the street. To me, though, the living conditions don't seem as extreme as they did last time I was here. At least in this area, there are no shelters packed between buildings, and when I open the car door, the stench of human misery is not nearly the assault it was. Tris has clearly made progress in improving people's lives.

Kevin climbs out of the car and immediately wrinkles his nose in disgust. "You weren't kidding about the smell…" he mutters, and I smirk a little in response.

"I hate to tell you, but this is a _lot_ better than it was." In fact, given we're in the heat of summer now, and it was winter last time, the smell has improved remarkably.

He looks at me in disbelief before shaking his head slowly. "Ouch," he mutters. But he seems to accept it, walking beside me casually as I approach a small group of people who are standing by the side of the road, talking.

"Excuse me," I say when I'm near enough to be heard. Two of the people closest to me turn around, their expressions filled with the politeness I associate with Abnegation. It's slightly unnerving to see that here. "I'm trying to find a pawn shop that's somewhere in this area. Do you know how I could get there?"

A middle-aged woman in the group looks us up and down curiously. We're both wearing the oldest, most ragged clothes we could find for this trip, but despite that, we look better off than the people in front of us. Their outfits are dirty and ripped, and it's obvious that they haven't bathed in weeks. Suddenly, I'm keenly aware of just how much easier our lives are than those of the people I'm asking for help.

"I've seen a number of pawn shops around," the woman says thoughtfully, "but I don't really know how to get to any of them." She gives me a half-smile before adding, "I've never had the money to buy anything there." My sense of guilt increases as I think about the money and jewelry I brought with me, but I don't say anything. I can't fix this city's problems one person at a time, and I have a specific objective behind this trip.

The woman turns queryingly to the others in her group, and they begin the kind of rambling conversation I've seen many times in my life when no one has an answer but everyone is determined to help. I decide to give them a few minutes to see what they can think up, and it seems to pay off when one of them eventually goes to ask a friend.

He comes back with a young woman – more of a teenager, really – who approaches us somewhat warily. "You're looking for a pawn shop?" she asks, and I nod, trying not to look too intimidating. It would help if Kevin and I weren't both over six feet tall, while this girl is closer to Tris' height.

"We're trying to find one I saw a while ago. It was labeled 'PAWN', and it carried jewelry." I know it's a pitiful description to go on, but it's all I have.

"Oh." She twists a plait of her dirty brown hair together, chewing on it as she considers that. "Well, I didn't notice if it carried jewelry or not, but I applied for a job at one that's a few miles away. Do you want to try it?"

I hesitate, but Kevin says, "Sure." At my look, he adds, "If it's the wrong one, someone who works there can probably direct us to others. People tend to know their competitors well." That's a fair point.

"Yeah, we'll take a look," I agree.

The girl clearly tries her best to give us directions, but between us not knowing the area and her inability to remember some details of the route, it quickly becomes obvious that this will never work.

"Why don't we take you there?" her friend finally suggests, again in that helpful tone that reminds me so much of Abnegation. Just how must of that faction did my broadcast impart on these people?

But it doesn't seem to have affected the girl as much, because her expression makes it obvious that she isn't thrilled with the suggestion. Presumably, that's because Kevin and I are frightening people, but in a way I'm glad of that right now. We're already better dressed than average for this city, so we're ripe for someone to try to rob. That makes it a good time to look Dauntless.

But not necessarily to our potential guides….

I give the type of polite smile I grew up seeing, and I say gently, "If you have time available, that would be very helpful." I pause briefly before adding, "And we would be happy to pay for your service." It's only fair to offer, and we might as well address the wealth discrepancy up front.

A grin spreads across the girl's face as she finally nods in agreement. "Follow me," she says happily, leading the way at a good clip. Her friend falls into step behind her, walking by us and giving us a warm smile.

"My name is Emmanuel," he says. Gesturing toward our guide, he adds, "and that's Emily."

I incline my head in greeting. "That's Kevin, and I'm Tobias."

Something like recognition flickers through his eyes when he hears my name, and I tense automatically. He presumably knows me from the broadcast, but for a variety of reasons, I don't want to discuss that right now.

"You look familiar, Tobias," he says, his tone quizzical, and I realize he can't quite place me. "Have we met before?"

"I doubt it," I answer shortly, trying to discourage him from pursuing the subject. "I don't live in this area."

It's obvious from his expression that he knows I'm hiding something. But I guess he respects my privacy, because he just nods and turns his attention back to the sidewalk, walking in silence as we look around.

It's amazing to me how much the city has changed. The hand-built shelters that filled every nook and cranny last time seem to be entirely gone now, and in multiple areas we pass, I see people actively cleaning the streets and buildings and doing manual construction work. It has the same feeling I've seen back home in the past few months, every time a new faction has created a space for itself. These people are building communities to live in and are excited to be getting them ready.

The attitude of the rest of the population is noticeably different, too. The last time I was here, there was a sense of defeated obedience to everyone, but now people call to each other in greeting and gather in groups, talking animatedly. Optimism almost seems to float in the air, reminding me of Amity, but with more of the energy from Dauntless and the volume of Candor.

But a less visible difference is what catches my attention the most. During the mission, I was a mass of tension from the number of times I heard someone striking another person – and heard the cries of pain coming from a woman or child in response. I don't hear any of that this time. Instead, I frequently see children running in groups, laughing, while indulgent smiles follow them from the people they pass.

I don't know what to make of all this. There's no question that poverty is still heavy through here, at least judging by the old, worn clothing that everyone seems to be wearing. But the people don't look as starved or neglected as I remember, and every time I see someone eating, it's in a group of some kind where they're sharing their food. It reminds me of how the factionless in Chicago lived.

In fact, the more I look around, the more everything I see today reminds me of Chicago. _Forcefully._ And that makes it obvious where the changes stem from. Our mission. My broadcast. Tris' presidency. _We_ did this.

It's a humbling reality.

"Are you all right?" Kevin asks softly, and I realize I'm breathing rapidly. It's hard not to, as the full impact of that day hits me. It was so hard to share what I did in that broadcast – all the most intimate parts of myself – and I've never really wanted to think about it since then. But now I'm surrounded by the consequences of my decisions…and for the first time, I think maybe I made the right choices.

"Yeah," I say a bit stiffly, glancing at Kevin. "It's just really different from last time."

Before he can answer, Emily comes to a halt, gesturing grandly at what is clearly a pawn shop. She looks like she's proud of herself for finding it, but my heart sinks a little at the sight. It's not the right one. Still, as Kevin said, it's a starting point, so I don't complain as we head inside. Hopefully, the employees can help us get where we need to be.

* * *

"There are over a hundred pawn shops in Pittsburgh," the manager tells us, a touch of impatience in her voice. "So, if you want to find a particular one, you'll need to give me a lot more to go on."

"Well, it's on this side of the river," I state. I'm not surprised when the woman just raises her eyebrow. Obviously, that doesn't narrow the list much. Turning to our guides, I add, "And it's probably within a two-hour walk of where we started."

"Centre and Vine," Emmanuel offers helpfully, but the manager shakes her head.

"It'll take you weeks to visit every pawn shop in that radius," she tells us. "What else do you have?"

They all turn to me, and I wrack my brain, trying to come up with something unique about the nondescript shop we visited so long ago. I can picture the inside fairly well, but it was filled with transitory items – things for sale, nothing structural or identifying that would help us now. Except maybe one thing….

"It was in the broadcast," I say tightly.

For a moment, the room is dead silent, and then Emmanuel's eyes widen with shock. "I knew you looked familiar," he gasps. "You're the one who did the broadcast."

Emily raises her hands to her mouth, staring at me in awe. "Oh, my god," she whispers before her eyes flit to her friend. "You're right…."

"It can't be," the manager says, looking utterly stunned, but as the reality in front of her seems to sink in, she looks far less certain. "Are you really?" she finally asks, her voice quiet and filled with hope.

I don't know how to respond, and for a long moment, we all just stand there, staring at each other. It's Kevin who ultimately answers for me.

"Yes, Tobias transmitted the broadcast that ended NUSA," he says in his most factual voice.

"You freed us," Emmanuel says, stepping closer and reaching a hand toward me as if he wants to make sure I'm real. But I instinctively back away a step. I've never liked being touched, except by a very few people. Well, really just Tris.

"I'd be dead by now," Emily adds, also stepping closer, "if it weren't for you."

"My son probably would be, too," the manager says quietly. "A lot of people would be." As with the other two, she moves to touch my arm, and I step back again, discomfort raging through every part of me. There is nothing easy about this conversation.

"I don't think he knows…" Emmanuel says slowly, his eyes moving from me to his friend and then back again. "You haven't been here to see the consequences of your message, have you?"

I feel like a trapped animal, and I want nothing more than to leave this store right now. But part of me knows I can't avoid this discussion. These people clearly have very strong feelings about what I transmitted, and good or bad, they need to express those emotions.

"No," I admit awkwardly, "this is the first time I've been back here since that day."

Emmanuel nods thoughtfully, his eyes dark and serious. He seems to be struggling with where to begin.

"Our lives are so different now," he tells me softly. "I don't even know how to explain…." He runs a hand through his black hair. "I guess I should begin with the changes that President Prior made. She opened the government buildings up to house families with young children, and she insisted that all of the abandoned buildings throughout the country had to be opened so that anyone in need could move in. For the first time I can remember, I had real shelter through the winter. We all did."

Emily pipes up next. "And she said that hospitals couldn't charge for emergency medical care. I broke my leg a few months ago, and they cleaned it up and put it in a cast." She looks down at her right leg, tapping it on the floor to show that it works. "If that had happened before, I'm sure it would have gotten infected and killed me." Her voice is thick, and a tear makes its way down her cheek as she adds, "Like with my sister."

Something jumps inside me, and I swallow hard, thinking suddenly of my sister, Margaret, living factionless for her first few years of life.

"The president expanded the schools, too," the manager says, a hint of wonder in her voice. "I didn't think I'd be able to afford to send my daughter to sixth grade, but now she'll be able to go for free." She shakes her head in amazement. "Can you imagine that? _Free middle_ s_chool._"

"But it's not just that," Emmanuel says, clearly wanting very much to make me understand. "It's everything else – everyone's attitude, and the opportunities we have now. Businesses have been hiring more people instead of keeping all their profits to themselves, and those who have more have been sharing food and clothes with those in need."

"For me," the manager says softly, her voice breaking a little, "the biggest difference is what you said about abuse. My husband used to hit me and our children sometimes, but he doesn't anymore. Not at all."

Kevin turns to stare at me, clearly startled by that statement, and I realize I should have talked with him more before bringing him here. Like everyone else in Chicago, he learned only basic information about the broadcast – just that it stopped the war and overthrew NUSA. He doesn't know exactly what message I conveyed, because I never had any desire to share that and didn't feel it was necessary. Maybe it was.

I run a hand up the back of my neck, feeling the sweat prickling there. This is all too much to absorb.

"Look," I say, finally finding my voice again, "I…appreciate what you're saying, but I didn't come here to…." My voice trails off as I realize that I can't tell them I don't want their thanks – that would just come off as rude. But after growing up in Abnegation, I have no idea how to accept gratitude without deflecting it off myself. And this is too big to deflect.

To my relief, Kevin jumps in. "We came here to find a ring that belongs to President Prior," he says firmly. The other three are instantly focused on him. "She and Tobias had to sell it the last time they came through here, and Tobias wants to find it now and return it to her."

It's as if someone flicked a switch, turning on electricity to the three people talking with us. They visibly light up at the idea of helping Tris, or perhaps of helping _me_ to help her.

"I didn't recognize the pawn shop in the broadcast," the manager says, "but I'm sure I can find out where it is. I'll start calling the other stores I have numbers for." She moves toward the back office rapidly, obviously wanting to help _right now_.

"I'll take care of any customers who come in while you're doing that," Emily calls after her enthusiastically, and I remember that earlier she mentioned applying for a job here. If she hasn't already gotten it, she's probably earning it now.

Emmanuel looks at us, clearly eager to come up with a way to help too, before he says, "And I'll lead you there once we have a location."

* * *

I spend the next two and a half hours wandering through the pawn shop, looking at item after item, while the manager makes her phone calls and Kevin talks with the others. There's a restless energy going through me that I don't seem to be able to release by moving. But I'm not ready to talk about it yet, either, so I just keep idly examining the junk in the store.

The manager is proud and excited when she bursts out of the back office, announcing that she's located the shop we need. She jots down the address for Emmanuel, who leads us out with his head held high and a spring in his step. I follow quietly, trying to ignore the curious gaze Kevin levels at me. He undoubtedly got some interesting information from his conversation with the others, but he's always been good about holding off on probing questions until I'm ready to talk.

It takes a little less than half an hour to reach the door I recognize from months ago. It feels surreal that we're here already, some three hours after entering the city. I would _never_ have expected to find it this quickly.

My heart beats faster as we approach, remembering how nervous Tris and Uriah and I were the last time we were here. We almost lost the whole mission that day, when the store owner wanted Pari to drink NUSA's serum-laced water. It was only Tris' quick thinking that saved us.

We enter, and I go straight to the cases of jewelry, scouring them for a sign of Anna's ring. There are two large cases, with multiple shelves that are packed with items, so it takes time. And even after the first pass, I think there's a chance I might have missed it, so I look again. But I don't see it.

"Help me look," I tell Kevin and Emmanuel, my anxiety starting to show. "It's gold with a diamond." But nothing they point out is right. Surely, it hasn't been sold. There can't be that many people who could afford a ring like that in this city….

But it soon becomes obvious that the ring is nowhere to be seen.

"It's gone," I tell the others, feeling the weight of hopelessness sink into me again. I finally came up with a way to help Tris, and I couldn't make it work.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" a man's voice asks, and I look up to see a face I know – the store owner who bought the ring all those months ago.

For a second, we just stare at each other, and then he smiles broadly. "I always suspected you would return," he says. "You or the president. I remembered her saying that she didn't really want to sell that particular ring, and I felt certain you'd come back for it."

"Do you still have it?" The words practically jump out of my mouth.

I get my answer in the way his face falls. "I'm sorry," he says softly. He clearly means the sentiment, but that doesn't stop a crushing sense of loss from going through me.

"It sold the day after you were here," he adds. "I apparently underpriced it." He looks at me sadly for a moment before continuing. "But after the broadcast, when I realized what I'd sold, I wrote down everything I could remember about the man who bought it."

He moves behind the counter, reaching down for something, and then extends a piece of paper to me. "I saved that for you. I don't know if it will help or not, but I hope perhaps it will."

_**A/N: Whew, that was a long chapter. I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will switch POVs briefly, and then we'll be back to Tobias for a little longer.**_

_**Please let me know what you think of the story so far, and particularly of this chapter. I really, really appreciate your reviews - they always encourage me to write and to post as frequently as I can. Thanks! **_


	6. Chapter 6: Luella - Frustration

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my fantastic beta reader, Rosalie! This is a short chapter that's just designed to introduce two new characters and to let you know the current status of Anna's ring. **_

**Chapter 6: Luella – Frustration**

Kaylee starts crying when we're still five blocks from home, and I feel like joining her. It's been another frustrating day – trudging through the sticky heat of summer for hours, going from business to business looking for anyone who might be hiring.

They were all sympathetic, of course. Everyone is these days, but that doesn't mean they have any job openings, and we're getting desperate for some type of income.

"It's all right, Kaylee," I murmur as soothingly as I can, rocking her on my hip, but the truth is that things are far from all right. We're three months behind on our rent, and while the landlord has been generous about giving us extra time to pay, there's only so long he can let us slide. If Micky and I both stay out of work for much longer, we'll have no choice but to join the families that stay in the federal building every night.

That wouldn't be so bad, I suppose. It's certainly better than living in a hand-built shelter on the street the way most everyone did while NUSA was still in power. But we'd lose the little bit of privacy we have now, and I know how hard that would be on Micky. He's always needed his privacy.

The irony is that my little family was considerably better off before NUSA was ousted, though I honestly don't know why that is. It's certainly not true of anyone else I know, or of the population as a whole. But somehow Micky always brought in pretty good money in those days.

I frown a little, wondering again just what work he used to perform. He doesn't talk about it, and it's obvious he's hiding something, but I try not to press. He'll tell me when he's ready, or so I hope. Honesty is important, after all.

* * *

Micky is already home when I arrive, hauling Kaylee with me. By now, she's screaming with hunger, and I seat myself quickly so I can nurse her. Micky leans over, brushing a tender hand along the peach fuzz on our suckling daughter's head before giving me a kiss. I can't help smiling. He always makes me happy, no matter how rotten my day might be.

"Any luck today?" I ask hopefully. I get my answer in the way his face falls.

"No," he says with a sigh. "You?" I just shake my head.

He nods a little, looking away, and I can tell he's fighting his disappointment. "I'll check farther west tomorrow," he says quietly. "There's bound to be something eventually." But I'm not so sure.

"Micky…." I bite my lip. "I think we need to face reality. What if we don't find anything?"

He turns away, balling his hands in aggravation. "What choice do we have? We've already sold everything we can."

"Not everything…" but my voice trails off at the look of fury he gives me.

"We are _not_ selling your ring!"

I sigh. I know how much it meant to him that he was able to give me an engagement ring when so few people can afford one. And I treasure it – I really do. It's my most prized possession, with its beautiful gold band and sparkling diamond. But it's still only that, only an object.

"Micky, it's just a ring," I whisper. "I mean, it's important to me, of course, but only because it came from you. I'd rather have _you_, and our life together, than any piece of metal."

But clearly he isn't ready to go down that road yet. "We're not that desperate," he growls, whirling away from me and pacing across the small room. And I know there's no point in arguing further right now. When he gets stubborn, he stops listening to reason, and reason is the only way to win this particular debate.

"Okay," I say softly. "For now, we'll just keep looking for work." He turns back to me, and I meet his eyes. "But if we don't find something before next month's rent is due, we need to consider alternatives."

He doesn't answer.

* * *

_**A/N: To answer a guest reviewer, this story will continue for a while. There will be several more chapters in Pittsburgh, and then some in Philadelphia, followed by more in Chicago. I've been updating at least once a week (usually more often) and hope to continue that schedule. I'm updating it in parallel with my "Becoming Determinant" story.**_

_**That said, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. I know it's short, but hopefully it worked anyway.**_

_**P.S. For anyone who didn't see this recommendation in my "Becoming Determinant" story, I recently came across an AU "Divergent" fic that's really good and that doesn't have nearly as many reviews as it deserves. If you haven't seen it yet, I strongly recommend you check out "Bitter Cold" by Mugglesarah.**_


	7. Chapter 7: Tobias - Gratitude

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, and/or been writing reviews for this story! You really inspire me to keep going. Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_

**Chapter 7: Tobias – Gratitude**

The store owner, whose name we learn is David, insists that we stay with him while we're in Pittsburgh. He has a small apartment by Chicago standards, but I'm sure it's quite large for this city – with a kitchen and living room in addition to a bedroom and private bathroom. Compared with the tiny one-room apartment we saw the last time I was here, this place is enormous.

We sit in the living room, Kevin's long body taking up most of the small blue couch while David and I occupy the plush mis-matched chairs that form the other side of the conversation area. But I'm not really looking at either of them – I'm still staring at the paper that David kept for all these months. I guess I'm hoping that more information will magically appear on it if I look long enough.

The man who bought Anna's ring is young – probably in his early twenties – and average sized, with reddish-blond hair and pale skin. David said they didn't talk much, but judging by his accent, the man has probably always lived in Pittsburgh. The only thing David noted from the conversation was that the man wanted to surprise his girlfriend with the ring so they could get married before their baby came.

It's depressingly little to go on – certainly not enough to find him in this city full of people. So, we end up focusing our attention on the fact that he paid in cash – and speculating from there.

"What percent of the population would have been able to afford that price?" Kevin asks curiously, sounding like the Erudite he is.

"On a payment plan," David begins, "close to five percent of my customers could have afforded it. I priced it for that range. But to pay in cash?" He shakes his head. "That was _highly_ unusual…."

"And I assume that tells you something about his profession?" Kevin presses.

David's face shows distaste. "Well, yes. Either he was a member of one of the prominent families, or he did something…illicit, at best." He scratches the bald spot on the top of his head before continuing. "He didn't have a bodyguard with him, so I doubt he belonged to one of the families, or that he was a pimp or in charge of a gang. And he wasn't large enough to be an enforcer for a loan shark."

A vague sense of revulsion goes through me at the possibilities that David is listing, and at the idea of Anna's ring being with someone like that. But I push it aside and keep my focus on our host.

"Overall," he says thoughtfully, "I think he was probably a thief."

It's slightly better than the other options, but I still don't like the idea. Most of the people in this country are barely surviving as it is – they can't afford to have someone steal from them.

And with that thought comes additional doubt. "How could he have made that much money by robbing such a poor population?" I ask.

"He couldn't," Kevin answers flatly. "The numbers don't add up. Besides, if he was stealing from people, why not simply steal a ring when he wanted one?" He shakes his head, dismissing the idea. But then another thought seems to occur to him.

"Unless he stole from businesses…" he says slowly. "In that case, he'd end up with whatever they had – which probably wouldn't be jewelry – and when he sold that, he'd have cash."

I have to think about that for a moment, remembering what little I know about businesses in NUSA. My mind goes to the building where we hid in Philadelphia. They were a manufacturer of some sort, but they only had one guard on duty at night – Margot's ex-boyfriend, Simon. It's easy to see how someone could have stolen from them – and could have ended up with enough money to pay for Anna's ring as a result.

But David looks startled by the suggestion. "I can't say I ever heard of anyone doing that," he says hesitantly. His eyes turn to me. "NUSA's broadcasts encouraged us to serve businesses almost as much as the government itself, so it's difficult to imagine someone stealing from them."

That's undoubtedly true, yet something about it doesn't quite make sense. It takes me a little while to realize why... If no one ever stole from businesses, why would Simon's company have hired him in the first place? Why would _any_ security be needed, even just a single guard? Clearly, there was some risk.

"He must have been resistant to the serum," I say, suddenly feeling no doubt that it's true. Given the extreme wealth discrepancy in NUSA, where so much abundance sat right in front of people who were starving…of course someone who was resistant would be tempted to go after it.

But I don't know if that helps us find the man we're looking for or not. He obviously wasn't part of the rebel group, since he didn't leave the city with Lauren and the others who went into hiding – he couldn't have, or he wouldn't have been here to buy the ring the next day. And he must not have known that NUSA was increasing the dose of serum in the drinking water, or he wouldn't have been out casually buying a ring during that time period.

And that means he presumably drank the water, and that may have caused him to turn himself in…. If so, he's probably dead now, I realize bitterly, unless we stopped NUSA before that happened.

Turning to David, I ask, "If he committed that type of crime, and then turned himself in, where would he have been questioned?"

"I don't honestly know," David answers, looking nonplussed. "Maybe the main police station?" He chews on his lip for a few seconds before nodding as if he's sure there's no better option. "I can take you there tomorrow if you want to check."

For another moment, I hesitate. There's far more guesswork in all of this than I'd like, but at the same time, several paths seem to lead to the police station…. If the man we're looking for turned himself in – for any crime – and is still alive, he's probably in jail there. And if he's dead, the police might have his possessions. And even if none of that ever happened, the police station probably has records of business thefts, and maybe those could help us find him, somehow. It's certainly better than wandering around looking randomly.

"Yeah," I say rather tersely, "let's give that a try."

* * *

David cooks some type of stir-fry for dinner, and we eat in our same seats in the living room. The food is surprisingly tasty, though that might be because the only previous meals I've eaten in this country were absolutely awful. Still, I take note of the spices he used so I can suggest them to Uriah when we get back. He's always looking to experiment with new recipes.

I offer to clean up afterwards, out of some old Abnegation habit, or perhaps because I'm used to taking turns with chores in my current faction, but David adamantly refuses. It's clear that he's determined to take care of his guests.

So, Kevin and I sit in silence while David washes the dishes by hand, his clinking noises carrying in from the kitchen.

"You didn't tell me about the broadcast," Kevin finally says, watching me carefully. "Why not?"

I shrug, looking away uncomfortably. I knew this subject was likely to arise, but that doesn't make me any more anxious to discuss it.

"It didn't seem important," I mutter.

"_Really?_" Kevin states, raising an eyebrow. "You're in an abuse support group, and you didn't think it was relevant to tell your _sponsor_ that you broadcast a message about your own personal abuse to an entire country? That didn't seem worth sharing?"

I'm not sure whether to be amused or annoyed at that description. When he says it like that, it seems ludicrous that I didn't speak up sooner, but I know that's not the full story.

"It didn't change what happened to me, or what I did, or what I need to do next," I argue back. "So, why does it matter?"

Kevin opens his mouth to answer but then closes it again, staring at me with a confused, flustered expression as if he can't even begin to formulate a response. It's a rare look to see on an Erudite.

"Tobias," he finally says, "judging by everything I heard today, you single-handedly changed the face of abuse for all of NUSA. Our program helps some fifty people a year, but you…." He pauses, shaking his head a little," You helped _hundreds of thousands_ – maybe millions – of people in one fell swoop. That isn't something to ignore."

But I want to do exactly that. I'm even quite sure why – I just know that the need to move is suddenly coursing through me, and I'm on my feet and pacing the room before I have a chance to think about it. Kevin watches me, his face appraising, and I know he's waiting for me to be ready to talk.

So, I try to think my way through this. It bothered me to share what I did in the broadcast, of course. Those memories were far too personal for me to want to show them to everyone. But at the same time, I don't regret doing that, not after seeing how much it helped people. And I've talked about those same memories in group sessions, so it's not as if I'm trying to hide them from Kevin. I just don't want to talk about the transmission itself….

And finally it occurs to me why.

"I shouldn't have done the broadcast at all," I admit, pulling the words painfully out of me. "Tris was always better at it. She was supposed to do it."

Kevin waits, but I can't seem to say anything else. Anger is pulsing through me now, but it's not directed at him. It's aimed squarely at me.

"The only reason she didn't," I add bitterly, "is because I broke her ribs and left her lying half-dead in a basement." The self-hatred is building, and I snarl, "How am I supposed to take _credit_ for that? As if it's something _good_?"

I turn away from Kevin, pacing the small room furiously. All I can picture now is the way Tris looked as she slumped down the wall that I smashed her into. As she gasped for air she couldn't find while the light slowly left her eyes. She could so easily have died in that moment, and it would have been entirely my fault.

And people want to treat me like a hero because of that? _No._ I won't put up with it.

The need to hit something is abruptly overwhelming. I need to _move_, to get this adrenaline out of me, to turn it outwards and keep it from smashing and slicing and eating up everything inside me. I claw at the sides of my head, trying to somehow release it.

Kevin's hands grip my wrists hard, halting my motion and freezing me in place. My eyes snap to his, glaring.

"Tobias," he says firmly. "Stop."

I step back quickly, pulling myself free in a sharp motion. But then I stand still, breathing hard and trying to regain control of myself. I've never seen Kevin intervene physically before, and I know if he's doing it now, it must be because he was afraid of what I'd do. That I'd hurt myself.

So, I start my calming routine, breathing in and out while I repeatedly form my hands into fists and force them open again. Finally, I nod stiffly. Kevin nods too before speaking.

"I'm not going to minimize what you did to Tris," he tells me solidly. "You know I'll never do that. But it's important to recognize the things we do _right_ as well as the ones we do wrong. And regardless of the circumstances around it, you did a lot of good with that broadcast."

Some type of scoffing noise comes out of me, and Kevin gives a long, discouraged sigh in response. He runs his hands down the sides of his face.

"Can I ask you a question?" he finally says, his voice softer now.

Part of me wants to snap _no_, but I do know that he's trying to help. And he's done enough for me in the past to deserve my attention now. So, I nod, swallowing hard.

His voice is very quiet this time. "Do you think that my sponsoring people makes up for what I did to Elena?"

The words startle me out of my current train of thought, and for a few seconds, I just stare at him.

"No," I answer honestly.

He nods a little, to himself I think. "I agree," he says. His expression is vulnerable when he meets my gaze again. "But is it worth doing anyway?"

The word forms itself without conscious thought – "Yes" – and suddenly I understand his point. It's impossible to accept it as right, but at the same time…I can't argue against it. The good he's doing is separate from the harm he caused, and both need to be remembered. And the same is true with me.

I just don't know if I can do that yet.

"Look," Kevin continues, his voice still unusually soft, "it's obvious that you're not comfortable discussing this yet. I'm sorry I pushed you." He holds his hands up, palms out, in a reassuring motion, and something inside me does relax a little in response.

"I'm just going to say one more thing," he adds, "because it's something I need to say and something you need to hear, and then I'll drop it. Okay?"

I look at him uncertainly, not sure if I should agree, but I finally nod. Kevin has never steered me wrong before.

He nods a little, too, his expression serious. "Thank you," he says firmly. His gaze holds mine. "I've lived the full spectrum of abuse, so it seems fair for me to say that on behalf of everyone who will never have to live it because of you. Everyone who will never be hit the way you and I both were. And everyone who will never know the horror of losing control and hurting the people they love, and then having to live with that for the rest of their lives."

He closes his eyes and repeats, "Thank you."

All I can do is stare. In that moment, I'm sure I'll never be able to speak again. Some strange type of prickly energy is travelling up and down every nerve in my body, and it's completely closing my throat.

"Someday, you'll be ready to accept those thanks," Kevin says softly. "It may be tomorrow, or it may be ten years from now. It's okay either way." One side of his mouth lifts a little. "We'll talk about it again whenever you're ready to say 'you're welcome.'"

It's impossible to answer verbally, so I just turn my attention to the floor, looking at the worn carpet as if it's the most fascinating thing in the world. After a very long time, I finally nod, acknowledging his words. Whether I respond to them or not, I know they're now firmly imbedded in my brain, and they'll stick with me until we eventually talk about this again.

I just don't know yet if that's a good or bad thing.

* * *

David insists on sleeping on the floor, leaving the bed and the couch available for his guests. I try to take the couch, knowing that Kevin is too tall for it, but really, he only has an inch on me, so it's a weak argument. And when he ultimately refuses to get off it, insisting he'd rather just sleep there, I give up and head to the bedroom.

It's hardly a shock that my sleep is restless, filled with dreams of my father and NUSA and Tris. I wake up in the very early morning, momentarily disoriented and alarmed, and then lie there listening to my heart pounding in the silent apartment. When I finally fall asleep again, I enter a dream I didn't expect.

I'm wandering around this country that used to be NUSA, while person after person approaches me. A little girl with bruises all over her face smiles at me and whispers, "Thank you." She's followed by a boy who might be her brother, though it's hard to tell through the blood covering his head. He grasps my arm, catching my attention as he echoes the girl's words.

A middle-aged woman who bears some resemblance to my mother follows them, murmuring her thanks as she touches my cheek lightly. She's joined by the manager from the store we visited earlier in the day, and then by her children and finally her husband. He holds my gaze for a very long time before saying, "Thank you for saving me from myself."

He shakes my hand, and when he moves away, I realize that there's a long line of people waiting to greet me. They approach me one by one, each showing me their injuries or those they inflicted, and each thanking me for changing their lives.

The line goes on and on, an endless stream of abusers and victims, until I can no longer see the individuals and I lose all sense of time. It's not until a familiar face emerges that I focus again.

My father is in front of me, standing tall and straight and wearing Abnegation gray. His eyes are on me, the same dark blue that I grew up fearing and hating. But now they look the way they did the last time I saw him – when he looked like he was proud of me.

"Thank you, son," he tells me, his voice breaking in a manner I've never heard before. "For making sure it ended with me."

He shifts to the side a little, and suddenly he's holding an infant – a child with the same deep blue eyes, and I stare at it, wondering even in the dream if it's me.

But I get my answer when he turns to the side, handing the baby to a woman who has just appeared, and I find myself looking at Tris as she holds what I now know without question is our child.

A longing like I've never felt before goes through me at the sight of them together – at the idea that I could be with them. That I could have this life.

The people around them fade into the background as my eyes lock with Tris'. She holds the baby up, as if offering it to me, and she steps closer.

"Thank you, Tobias," she says softly, her face filled with love and trust. "Thank you for keeping us safe."

I don't know how long I stare at her and at our child before I answer.

"You're welcome," I whisper.

_**A/N: I'm going on a short vacation, so it will probably be a week before the next chapter is posted. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. It's obviously an important one in both plot and character development, so I'd really appreciate your feedback. Thanks!**_


	8. Chapter 8: Tobias - Police Station

_**A/N: I'm sorry to take a couple of days longer than expected to post this chapter. I could give a long explanation, but the quick version is that life happens... Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Thank you also to my fantastic beta reader, Rosalie, who managed to review this chapter despite a crazy work schedule and a last-minute power failure! I really appreciate it.  
**_

**Chapter 8: Tobias – Police Station**

David leaves the store in his employees' hands, taking the day off so he can go with us to Pittsburgh's main police station. It's too far to walk easily, so instead we return to where we left the car and drive from there.

The station is in a large, five-story building surrounded by barbed wire fencing. It has an intimidating aura to it, but it's difficult to really know what to make of it, since I'm used to Dauntless being the police force for our city. It's strange to see a standalone building serve that role.

The guards at the front entrance tell us to empty our pockets, put everything from them into buckets, and walk through some type of scanning equipment. The entire process makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and it's difficult to resist the urge to refuse – vehemently. But David and Kevin go first, and when it's obvious the guards are doing exactly what they said they'd do, I finally decide to submit.

The guards look oddly at the jewelry from my pockets, but they pass it through the equipment and return it to me without a word.

We aren't sure where to go next, so we end up making our way to the large, circular receptionist desk that sits in the middle of the lobby. It reminds me of the building we invaded in Philadelphia so long ago, and I feel a twinge as I remember the guards we shot there that day. One of them was looking me directly in the eyes when my father killed him….

"May I help you?" a voice asks politely, and I force my attention back to the present. The middle-aged woman at the desk is watching me curiously, clearly waiting for an answer.

"Um, hopefully," I respond, giving my best Abnegation smile to match the one on her face. "We're trying to track down someone we think might have been questioned during NUSA's last few days. Are there records we could examine for that, or someone we could talk to?"

She cocks her head at that request, pursing her lips thoughtfully, before she consults a notebook. "No one has asked me that before," she comments as she flips through the pages, "so please give me a moment to find the right person."

We do, watching as she pauses on pages at times, scanning carefully for the information she wants.

"Hmmm," she finally says, "I'm not finding a great match here, but let's try Ms. Hamilton. She's in charge of the transition from NUSA's control, so she would probably know more than anyone else."

I nod, waiting patiently while she makes a phone call. When she's finished, she smiles and tells us it will be just another moment.

"You're welcome to have a seat if you'd like," she says sweetly, gesturing to a set of chairs against the far wall of the room. But we opt to stand, looking a bit nervously around the busy lobby as people of all ages come and go. A fair number of them wear the same uniform; it's one I haven't seen before, and I assume it must be the current police uniform.

The figure that eventually approaches us is wearing that same uniform, but that's not what I notice as she draws near. Instead, I compare the way she looks now with how I saw her last, as she lay bloody and weak on the floor of the NUSA vehicle we drove from Toledo to Pittsburgh.

"Lauren," I say, surprised.

She stops, equally startled, before she grins widely. "Four. I should have known." She reaches out to shake my hand Dauntless-style, and I reciprocate, though as awkwardly as I always shake hands.

"Not many people come here looking for NUSA prisoners," she adds, "so I wasn't sure what to expect. And out of our original little group, Peter is the one who usually works with me." Her face takes on a worried tinge as she glances at my companions and then returns her gaze to me. "Nothing's happened to him, has it?"

I shake my head quickly. "Not as far as I know," I answer. But I have no idea what to add after that, since it's not like I know anything about Peter's current status. Or Lauren's, for that matter.

"How did you end up here?" I ask, suddenly curious.

"Ah, you know how it goes," she says easily. "I fell for one of the rebels who took care of me while we were hiding, so I stayed to see if it would work out." She shrugs. "It didn't, but in the meantime I ended up with a job I enjoy, where I feel like I'm making a difference, and I formed some new friendships. So, for now anyway, this is home."

She smiles again before turning to Kevin. For a moment, her eyes move up and down his form, and her expression reminds me of how Zeke always gazed at his dates – with unmistakable interest.

"And you are?" she asks, her voice a bit suggestive.

"Married," he answers drily.

Lauren flushes slightly but then smiles again. "That's an odd name, but it's good to meet you, Mr. Married."

Kevin chuckles before introducing himself properly, followed by David. When we're done, Lauren leads us deep into the building and up two flights of stairs, listening as we walk. I explain what we're trying to do as briefly as possible, though I'm honest in what I tell her. It would be wrong to lie to someone who went on the mission with me, particularly in front of a person who learned the value of honesty from my broadcast.

"I'm not sure how much I'll be able to help," Lauren says after I finish. "I mean, I'll try, but we haven't exactly prioritized crimes against NUSA. We've been too busy rebuilding the police force and catching everyone who was part of the old government." She glances at David before adding, "There were a lot of wealthy people and business owners who weren't on the serum and have been trying to regain power, so we've been focused on tracking them down."

I nod, trying not to show my disappointment. Their goal is appropriate, of course, but unfortunately it doesn't do me much good right now.

"What happened to the prisoners that NUSA had?" Kevin asks.

The expression on Lauren's face tells me the answer before she says it. "There weren't any." It's obvious why. NUSA killed its prisoners too quickly for there to be any left.

"Did they keep records of the people they questioned?" I ask, trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach at the thought of what that questioning entailed. An image of the device on Amar's head, and the matching one on Tris', lodges itself behind my eyes.

"Yeah, they kept great records," she answers, her face and tone conveying deep disgust. "They're the most cruel thing I've ever seen – and the number of them is utterly horrifying – but if they'll help you, you can certainly go through them. We're not doing anything with them anyway."

To my surprise, she reaches out and lays a hand on my shoulder. "And I think you've earned a little trust, Four."

The gesture is obviously meant to be kind, so I nod stiffly, trying not to flinch away. But I'm relieved when Kevin clears his throat, drawing Lauren's attention to him.

"Can we also look at the records of current prisoners?" he asks. It's a sensible question, given how much speculation we're operating under. The man we're looking for might well be from one of the prominent families after all, or be another type of criminal.

Lauren looks more cautious this time. "I can't show you the complete records," she says, frowning a little. "Some of that is confidential. But I can let you search the mug shots if that would help."

Somewhat to my surprise, it's David who answers. "Yes, that would be very helpful," he tells her eagerly.

But I don't say anything. There's always the chance that we'll luck out and he'll find the face we're seeking, but I doubt it. That kind of luck never seems to run my way.

* * *

The next few hours are frustrating. NUSA's records are sorted by date, so we start with the latest ones and work backwards to the day the ring was bought. As Lauren said, the records are awful to read, and when we finish without finding the man we're looking for, I don't know whether to be relieved or aggravated. I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone, but it's difficult to realize we read through all those horrors for no gain.

We move on to the current prisoner database next, sorting by physical description and then letting David look at every matching mug shot. It takes time and ultimately ends in failure, too. Apparently, our mystery buyer has never been arrested.

We finally turn to NUSA's unsolved cases, knowing we won't get a definite identification out of those but hoping to come across _something_ we can use. At least this part of the effort shouldn't take long, since as David said yesterday, there was very little crime against NUSA and against those it favored. In fact, there were only eight open investigations in process at the time that government was ousted. Since they're in paper files, we split them up so we can dive into them four at a time.

"Bingo!" Lauren says with satisfaction a half-hour later. She drops her current folder onto the table in front of us before continuing.

"The big companies used to lock their employees in during the work day – which lasted fourteen hours, by the way. The employees were forced to purchase meals from the company's cafeteria during that time, and they had to pay cash for what they bought. It was a way of keeping them indentured to the company."

I suspect where she's going with this, and it's clear from Kevin's expression that he does, too, but neither of us interrupts.

"That cash was deposited by the company every week or two," she adds, "so a good amount accumulated in between deposits. And judging by this file, someone started stealing it." She smiles a little. "Whoever it was got away with a hefty amount from five different companies."

"Bingo, indeed," Kevin says appreciatively as he picks up the folder. "That's frankly an amazing fit to what we were speculating."

He's right, and the words are reassuring in more ways than one. They tell me that our guesses were good, which gives me hope that we'll find Anna's ring yet. It's also nice to know that the man who bought that ring wasn't stealing from people in need, but instead from companies that were basically robbing those people.

"Did they have any leads on who the thief was?" I ask, moving so I'm standing behind Kevin and trying to read over his shoulder.

"It doesn't look like it," he answers, his mouth flattening somewhat. "But it's still better than nothing. Chances are the guy lived in between the companies' locations. And we can figure out what type of home he could afford based on how much he took. That should narrow things down a lot."

I nod, but then I look at Lauren as a thought occurs to me.

"If we find this guy," I ask her, "will he be in trouble?"

She considers that for a moment. "Not with me. Heck, I might offer him a job arresting the people he used to steal from." She chuckles. "It takes some guts to do what he did, and he's obviously pretty smart if he got away with it. I could use someone like that here."

I can't help grinning in response. It's good to know we won't be causing our thief harm if we're able to find him. It would feel wrong to retrieve Anna's ring under circumstances like that.

For the next hour, we map out the neighborhoods where our thief is most likely to be living. We end up with a list of five, which is certainly far better than how we started the day – but still nowhere near close enough. It would take weeks to search those locations door to door, and we can't stay away from Chicago that long.

I finally step back, looking at our map and running a frazzled hand through my hair. There must be _something_ we're missing. Some way of narrowing this down further….

"I think we need lunch," I mutter.

"That's the best idea I've heard all day," Kevin states flatly, tossing his pencil onto the table and stretching. "Where can we eat?"

"Ironically," Lauren says, one corner of her mouth lifting, "in the building's cafeteria."

It's not an appealing idea, but we end up eating there anyway. It's apparently as good as anywhere else, and at least this way we won't have to go through security again.

As we eat, I find myself looking around, imagining the employees being locked in here – forced to spend their hard-earned money buying this food at inflated prices. And I find myself agreeing with Lauren. Our thief provided a type of justice – certainly not a perfect one, but one that was better than letting companies continue to profit off their employees' misery.

And he spent the money on a ring for his girlfriend, so they could be married in time for their child to enter the world. An image comes to mind from my dream last night, of Tris holding a baby with my dark blue eyes, and I can understand his urge to buy that ring.

The realization hits me so suddenly I almost drop my food.

"We're looking at this wrong," I tell the others sharply. Their eyes turn to me, and I continue quickly. "We've only been searching the criminal databases, but we know he was planning to get married, and we know they were expecting a baby soon. We need to search those records, too."

Kevin sits up straighter, his mouth opening in a dumbfounded expression. "You're right," he says. "We need to cross-reference those databases against the neighborhoods we came up with, and find anyone who was married and then had a child within, say, six months of when he bought the ring. That should narrow the list considerably."

"Particularly if the records include physical descriptions," I add, knowing that our thief's age and hair color will make the list even shorter.

Kevin nods, a grin forming on his face, and after a second, a matching one appears on David. Lauren, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable. We're probably not supposed to have access to that type of information.

But our enthusiasm must be contagious, because after a moment, she smiles. "Okay," she says, "but I'll have to do the searching. Those records are confidential."

* * *

"Michael O'Clery," Lauren announces, turning to us with a flourish as she wheels her desk chair out of the way. "He's the only one who matches all your criteria."

We crowd around the monitor, staring at what appears to be an official identification picture of a young man with reddish blond hair.

David grins widely. "That's him!" he declares, his tone filled with excitement and something like pride. For the first time, it occurs to me that he's probably felt guilty about selling that ring ever since my broadcast. This is his chance to redeem himself almost as much as it's mine.

"Do you know where that is?" I ask him as I point to the address beneath Michael's photo.

"Yes," he and Lauren answer simultaneously.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Kevin asks, clapping a hand on my shoulder and looking at the others. "Let's go get Tris' ring."

I don't bother to correct him as we head for the door. It's not Tris' ring yet, but someday, it definitely should be.

* * *

_**A/N: Please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Your reviews do more than anything else to motivate me to find time to write and post even when things are crazy busy, so thank you very, very much for each and every one of them!**_

_**By the way, we're getting close to the end of the Pittsburgh story arc, and then we'll move on to Anna, Tris, and Caleb for a little while before we see some Fourtris time.**_


	9. Chapter 9: Tobias - Getting a Micky

_**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really loved your comments. Thank you also to my fantastic beta reader, Rosalie!**_

_**A couple of notes...**_

_**1. A reviewer was having trouble finding my "Determinant" story. To find that, click on the "Windchimed" link at the top of this page. That will take you to my Profile page. Scroll all the way to the bottom of that, and you'll see my other stories.**_

_**2. Another reviewer asked what my favorite "Divergent" fanfictions and authors are. You can find links to most of those on my fanfiction Profile page as well. There are some additional links on my "Archive of Our Own" profile page. Please check those out - there are some very good stories and authors linked there. **_

_**Now, on to the story...**_

* * *

**Chapter 9: Tobias – Getting a Micky**

I should have known it wouldn't be this easy. But that doesn't stop the bitter disappointment from going through me when we find out that Michael O'Clery has moved. The current resident of the apartment seems to have no idea where he went.

"I think he moved out a month before I came here," she says, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips as if in thought. "So, at least four months ago."

"Do people register new addresses anywhere in this city?" Kevin asks Lauren, but she shakes her head a little.

"It's only required for certain events – getting married, buying a house, getting a driver's license. Other than that, people rarely bother…particularly if they'd rather stay hidden."

I can't help the frustrated noise that comes out of me in response to that statement. Michael is undoubtedly in that category. He probably has been his entire life – first, because he was resistant to the serum and later because he was committing crimes against NUSA's pet corporations. We won't find his new address easily.

I turn away from the others, running a hand through my hair as I pace a few steps back and forth, trying to think of what we can do next. We've come too far to just give up now, but if we can't find the buyer, how else can we possibly find Anna's ring? It's not unique enough for me to describe it in an ad of any kind, and I don't have a photo of it. And it's not like I can send a broadcast of it to the whole city, even if that's a tempting thought at the moment….

My gaze wanders back to the young woman who answered the door. She's looking between us, her expression wary, and something about her nags at me.

"Has anyone else come looking for him?" I ask her, hoping that a friend or a bill collector – or anyone really – has been by. That would at least give us a starting point for tracking him down.

"No," she answers quickly. "No one." But her response is too fast, and she twines her fingers together as if she's nervous. The nagging feeling gets stronger as the Candor in me seizes on those indicators. There's something she's not telling us.

"Does anyone else live here?" I ask in my instructor voice, knowing it will intimidate her. "Anyone who might have answered the door?"

Her body gives a slight, involuntary twitch at my tone, and she's _definitely_ nervous when she responds.

"My mother and younger siblings do, but they never answer the door. I guarantee they haven't talked to anyone." Again, the answer is rushed, and not very believable.

She swallows, her eyes flitting to Kevin and then Lauren and back to me, and abruptly I realize our mistake. Lauren is still wearing her police uniform, and Kevin and I are big and frightening. If I were trying to protect someone who had broken the law, I certainly wouldn't tell people like us anything.

"We're not here to hurt him," I say as reassuringly as I can. "In fact, we want to make him an offer."

For a fraction of a second, her face freezes in panic as she realizes that I'm on to her, but then she masks it. It's enough to tell me I'm right. _She's hiding him._

"I…I'm not…" she begins, but Kevin interrupts her.

"You're his sister, aren't you? I can see the resemblance."

The words startle me, making me stare for a second, and then the feeling that has been nagging at me clicks into place. Kevin is right. This woman's hair is a light brown, instead of the blondish red we saw in the photo, but her facial structure has definite similarities to Michael's. Enough to be his younger sister.

"N-no," she stutters, her eyes growing wide with fear despite her best efforts to hide it. "Of course not. What would make you say that?"

David responds before any of the rest of us can.

"This isn't what you think." His voice is gentle, and he steps a little closer to her, raising a hand in supplication. She eyes it apprehensively.

"We know that your brother committed crimes during the NUSA days," David adds in the same soft tone, "but we don't care about that. We're definitely not on NUSA's side." He turns toward me and places a hand on my arm. I stiffen despite myself. "Look at this man closely. He seems familiar to you, doesn't he?"

Her gaze jumps back to me, and she stares somewhat wildly as David continues. "That's because he's the one who did the broadcast that freed us all. He's certainly not with NUSA." David smiles a little.

The woman's reaction is much like Emily's in the store yesterday, as she takes a half-step backwards and lifts her hands to her mouth. I can't say I like seeing people respond to me this way, but the cynical part of me realizes that at the moment, it could be useful. So, I watch her levelly, giving her time to process my identity.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asks. "And what do you need Micky for?" The words send a surge of relief through me. She _does_ know him.

"It's nothing bad," I answer clearly. "I promise." She keeps staring at me, a type of desperation in her face, and I do my best to make my voice mild. "He bought something that used to belong to the president. I just want to buy it back if he's willing to sell it." I give the most soothing smile I can manage. "I'll give him a lot more than he paid for it."

She's clearly still extremely hesitant, so I soften my voice even more. "Please. It would mean a lot to me. And to Tris."

For a very long moment, our gazes stay locked, and then she swallows hard. Her eyes close as she nods.

"Okay," she says. "I'll get him."

* * *

We wait in the apartment, listening politely as Micky's mother tells us about how he bought this place for them a year earlier.

"It was hard after their father died," Carol says. "My income wasn't enough to support five children and afford rent, so we ended up on the streets for a couple of years. It was a blessing when Micky found a job."

She looks around fondly, clearly associating the apartment with her oldest son. "He lived here with us, of course, until he and Luella were married. Such a sweet girl…." She smiles. "And their little one is adorable. I couldn't ask for a cuter grandchild."

I glance around, realizing that the apartment is very similar to David's. Carol obviously considers it to be an incredible luxury, and it certainly is compared with living on the streets. But it would be an extremely tight fit for five people, let alone seven. I can see why Micky wanted a more private location to live in with his wife and child.

Carol gestures vaguely towards the bedroom as she adds, "And now that my second son, Rory, is old enough to watch the young ones, Mary is looking for work too." She nods a little to herself. "So things are getting better."

For a moment, I watch the children playing in the bedroom, their tones hushed. The oldest one can't be much over ten, but I suppose that's old enough to be responsible for his younger siblings in this world.

"Are you sure I can't get you something to eat or drink?" Carol asks solicitously, but we all politely decline. I'm not about to take anything away from this family.

So, instead, we wait and make small talk for what feels like hours, some combination of anxiety and excitement growing steadily in me the entire time. I'm so close to being able to retrieve Anna's ring, but I can't help worrying that Micky will refuse to sell it to me. And then what will I do?

My agitation is interrupted when the front door finally opens. Mary comes in, looking as nervous as she did earlier, and her eyes go instantly to me as if looking for reassurance. She must find it, because she smiles a little as she steps to the side.

There's no mistaking the young man who enters behind her. His hair is longer than in the photo, but he's clearly the one we're looking for. Relief mixes in with the tension in my stomach, and I'm on my feet and across the room almost before I realize it.

He watches me warily, but there's something of awe in his expression, and I know he recognizes me.

"Hi," he says, his voice catching a little. He clears his throat. "I'm Micky."

"Tobias." I extend my hand Dauntless-style, and he shakes it hesitantly. It's rare for me to have the better handshake.

"Mary said you were looking for me?"

"Yes." I nod. "Thank you for coming." But then I pause, suddenly uncertain how to actually approach this issue. I suppose it's better to simply dive in.

"You bought a ring at a pawn shop just before my broadcast." I gesture toward David and add, "From him."

Micky's eyebrows rise, and it's clear he knows exactly what I'm talking about – and was hoping that wasn't it. I'll need to convince him to part with it….

"Tris and I had to sell that ring in order to finance our mission to end NUSA." I might as well appeal to his anti-NUSA attitude. "But we didn't want to, because it belonged to her grandmother." I swallow, meeting his gaze. "And it's the only family heirloom she has."

Clearing my throat, I add, "It means a lot to her. So, I want to buy it back – for twice what you paid for it." I don't know how much money he has left from his last theft, but perhaps that offer will be appealing enough.

Micky's face is conflicted, and he looks away for a long moment. "It's my wife's," he says softly. His eyes flit to his mother for a second, and he lowers his voice to a whisper in what seems to be an attempt to keep her from hearing. "We've had to sell everything else. I can't take that away, too."

And I understand. He only has two things left from the money he stole – his mother's apartment and his wife's ring, and he can't bear to take either of them away from the women he loves.

But maybe there's a way to substitute something of equal meaning.

"I know your thefts were in some ways a rebellion against NUSA," I begin. His eyes shoot to mine. "And I respect that. I'm sure there's extra meaning in that ring because you bought it with money you took from that corrupt system." He hesitates briefly but then nods, stiffly.

I nod, too. My voice is quieter as I continue. "What if I can offer you another way to get that same meaning, while also buying back that ring?"

He furrows his eyebrows, looking at me uncertainly. But he seems willing to listen. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the jewelry that I brought with me from Chicago, and I extend my hand so he can see the pieces lying on my palm.

"I bought these," I say simply. His expression tells me he doesn't understand, so I clarify, "The man whose broadcast destroyed NUSA bought these…using money that came from that destruction." It's a true statement, since I paid for the jewelry from the "hero's pension" that Chicago gives us each month.

A flash of emotion goes through Micky's eyes at that, and his gaze moves between me and the jewelry several times as he processes my words.

"If you and your wife picked one of these," I say softly, "would it have that same meaning? Enough for you to let me buy Tris' ring back?"

Micky opens his mouth to answer but then closes it again, staring instead at the four rings in my hand. They vary in style, from fancier than Anna's ring to simpler ones.

"I don't know," he finally says thoughtfully. He looks up at me again before adding, "But maybe, yeah…."

His gaze turns to his mother briefly, and I suspect he's weighing her needs as well as his wife's.

He nods a little. His voice is a strange mix of fatigue and worry and desire when he says, "I'll talk to Luella."

* * *

_**A/N: Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. As some of you know from my "Becoming Determinant" story, I'm sick right now (I caught a really nasty cold), so I've been sitting around feeling miserable. Your reviews have been doing a really good job of cheering me up, and I would definitely appreciate more of them! :-)**_


	10. Chapter 10: Micky - Hard Choices

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm sorry this one is a bit late. My schedule is still crazy, and it didn't help that my cold turned into a sinus infection and was then promptly followed by another cold. Ugh. Anyway, the next chapter will hopefully be posted a lot sooner. In the meantime, thank you as always to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! Thank you also to BK2U, who has kindly agreed to review chapters when I'm running behind and can't give Rosalie the turnaround time she needs for her busy schedule. I really appreciate the help from both of you!**_

* * *

**Chapter 10: Micky – Hard Choices**

Luella is nursing Kaylee when I get home, and for a moment I forget all words as I watch the two of them. I don't know what I ever did to deserve them.

Scratch that. I know perfectly well I _don't_ deserve them. If I did, I wouldn't be standing here trying to figure out how to tell my wife that I've never been honest with her.

But I greet them normally, with a gentle kiss on my daughter's head and a firmer one on my wife's lips. I've spent my whole life hiding behind a façade of normalcy, so it doesn't exactly take much effort even now.

"Hi," Luella says softly, trying not to disrupt Kaylee. I smile in response. "Any luck today?" she asks, her voice hopeful.

"In a way…." I reach down to stroke the baby's head so I don't have to meet Luella's eyes. "It's not a job, but…well, it's something we need to discuss."

"Okay…" she says slowly, clearly not sure what to make of my comment. I'm not usually so vague.

"I'll make dinner while you finish with Kaylee," I add, still avoiding eye contact. The upcoming conversation is frankly a bit petrifying.

But by the time I have dinner ready, and Kaylee is sound asleep, I can't avoid this any longer.

"You never asked what work I used to do," I say softly. The tone is an old habit to make sure the neighbors can't hear discussions like this.

"You didn't seem to want to share it," Luella murmurs, and I can't help smiling a bit. So few people respect privacy in our society, and I love that she's always tried to protect mine.

But my smile fades as I scrub a hand through my hair, thinking about how to tell her this.

"It's a long story," I finally say, "and I should probably start at the beginning." She just nods, listening attentively.

"My whole family was resistant to the broadcasts," I begin, my heart hammering at the admission. It would have meant death to say that aloud during most of my life. "My parents taught us to hide it, and to always pretend we were like everyone else, and we did. We were model citizens in public. But in private, I hated it. I hated the whole government, and all the lies they fed us."

It's impossible to hide my disgusted sneer, but Luella just nods encouragingly, waiting for me to continue. So, I do.

"I managed to deal with it until Dad died. You probably don't know this, but he was killed in a plant accident." My voice turns even more bitter. "The company locked everyone in during work days, and one day there was a fire. No one could get out…so they died."

Luella places a hand on my arm. "I'm sorry, Micky," she whispers.

"You're not the one who should've been sorry," I snap, my fury fresh even years after Dad's death. "It was the damned company's fault, but of course no one would admit that in those days." I shake my head. "They didn't do anything for us. They didn't even pay to bury what was left of him. So, we had that cost on top of grieving, and having one less income. Of course we ended up on the streets, like practically everyone else."

My throat closes, and I stare at my plate until I find my voice again. "I was so afraid that my little siblings would show they were resistant to the broadcasts, and then we'd all be killed. And I _hated_ the company that Dad worked for. I hated them _so much_. So, I found myself watching them, and thinking about how to get even, and after a while…I figured out where they were vulnerable."

I meet Luella's eyes as I finally – for the first time since I met her – tell her what I really used to do. "And then I stole a bunch of money from them."

Something indefinable passes over her face – surprise or maybe satisfaction. It's hard to say, but at least she doesn't look like she's angry with me. That'll do for now, so I continue my story.

"It was enough to buy an apartment for my family. I told them I'd found a job, and they didn't ask a lot of questions. But my sister Mary suspected I was up to something. We were always close, and she was as resistant to the messages as I was. And as furious about what happened to Dad. So, eventually I told her what I'd done." I smile a little at the memory of how she reacted – of how _thrilled_ she was. How proud.

"She suggested we do the same thing to other companies. Ones that were as awful as Dad's. So, we set about figuring them out, too. We'd watch, and talk to people, pretending we were interested in working at that company and wanted to know more about it. Stuff like that. And then we'd strike…. We got away with a lot of cash. A LOT."

Here I hesitate, not sure what my wife will think of the next bit, but if I'm going to ask her to part with her wedding ring, I need to be honest about why it's necessary.

"We used the money to live, of course, but we also gave some away…mostly to the families of Dad's coworkers. The ones who died with him. It felt right to give some of the company's money back to them, though we certainly didn't tell them where it came from." I give a short laugh. "That would have been suicidal."

Luella takes my hand, her fingers linking with mine. I can see the pride in her eyes as she says, "You probably saved some of their lives, you know."

"Yeah, maybe we did. I like to think so, anyway." I look away uncomfortably as I add, "But it used the money up too fast. And then when NUSA was overthrown…well, there wasn't really anywhere to steal from anymore. At least, not that we wouldn't feel guilty about taking from. So, we ended up…." I gesture around with my hands at our largely bare apartment. We've sold almost everything.

"We ended up like this."

I can see the understanding on Luella's face. She knows now why we're poor, why we're on the brink of being tossed out of here.

"Micky…." She stops, at a loss for words. She opens and closes her mouth twice before abruptly leaning over and kissing me. "That's about the bravest thing I've ever heard," she whispers.

I'm damned good at hiding my reactions, but I'm pretty sure my shock shows this time. Luella smiles.

Gesturing around the apartment, she says, "You think I care about any of the stuff we sold? Of course I don't. I love _you_. You and Kaylee. As long as I have you two, I'm happy." She's smiling even more now, and it lifts my heart more than I care to admit.

"And I'm glad you gave the money away," she insists. "Those people needed it then. A lot more than we do now."

For a moment, I just stare at my wife, so glad that I have her in my life. Then, I nod slowly. "You're right," I say softly, "and I don't regret it. But that's also why it's so hard for me to find a job now. I don't have any real work experience, or contacts, or…anything."

She strokes my arm gently, looking thoughtful.

"What happened today?" she finally asks. "You said you had luck of some type."

I sigh. "I'm not sure I'd call it luck, really. And it's definitely not a job. But…well, I got a really unexpected offer for your ring."

She's more than a little startled. "What do you mean?"

"It's kind of hard to explain…. But, um, well, you know the big broadcast – the one that ended NUSA. The guy who transmitted that, he…found me today." Suddenly, I realize how absurd all of this will sound. Her ring really belongs to the _president_? She'll never believe me, even though it's true.

But the trusting expression on her face tells me that maybe I'm wrong.

"And?" she prompts me.

I sigh. "This is going to sound strange, but he and President Prior came through here on their way to stop NUSA. And they had to sell some stuff to fund their mission."

Luella gasps, and I know she's figured it out. I'm a bit surprised. She's not dumb by any means, but I didn't expect her to get this so quickly.

"Including my ring?" she asks, looking at me for confirmation. "That's it, isn't it?" I close my eyes as I nod.

"The guy – Tobias – he wants to buy it back. He said it means a lot to them. Enough for him to offer twice what I paid, plus a new ring." I bite the inside of my cheek. "I…told him I'd have to ask you."

For several seconds, she just stares at me without blinking, and then her eyes turn to her ring. She smiles a bit wistfully, but her voice is completely even when she finally speaks.

"Micky, we have to do this. After everything they've done for the country, we have to return what's theirs."

"It's ours, too," I insist. "It's _yours_. If you want to keep it, you should. We can find another way, somehow."

She shakes her head quickly. "Micky, I love you. You know that. But like I told you before, I only love this ring because it came from you. If you give me another one, I'll be just as happy. And this…this is right. It helps us _and_ them. We'd be fools not to do it."

For another long moment, I watch her closely, needing to be sure this is what she really wants. There's no question it will solve a lot of problems for us, and if I'm honest with myself, part of me wants to do this for the people who brought NUSA down. They did more than anyone else to get justice for Dad, and I never expected to be able to give them something back for that. But I have to know that Luella is truly okay with this.

She takes my hand, gripping it tightly as she meets my eyes. "Please, Micky," she says gently. "Do this for me, and for Kaylee, and for the president. And for what's right."

I nod.

_**A/N: Please take a moment to let me know what you thought about this chapter. Thanks!**_


	11. Chapter 11: Tobias - Success

_**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really appreciate it.**_

_**I went back and forth on the current chapter a lot, debating whether to include it or just go straight to the next one, but I'm finally going with this one. I owe a tremendous amount of thanks to both Rosalie and BK2U for their help with this chapter! They both gave me ideas and feedback when I was struggling, and they helped shape it into its current form. Thank you both very, very much!  
**_

**Chapter 11: Tobias – Success**

Lauren and Mary seem to have become fast friends, chatting about the city while we wait. It's clear that the younger woman is curious about the police force, and it's not hard to figure out why. It was a deadly threat to her and her family when NUSA was in charge, and she wants to see if that's still the case.

As I watch them talk, I remember Lauren's comment about hiring Micky if we found him. I wonder if she was serious.

"How are you holding up, Tobias?" Kevin asks quietly, keeping his voice low so only I can hear.

"Fine," I answer automatically. It takes me a second to realize it's true. There's an odd peace to having found Anna's ring. Even if Micky decides not to sell it back to me, at least I'll know that I did everything I could to retrieve it.

"Maybe I'm still in shock that we actually found it," I add with a half-smile. Kevin grins in response.

"Yeah, I really didn't think we would," he comments. "I was just waiting for you to give up on your own, but damn if you didn't pull this thing off." He shakes his head a little, still smiling. He's right. Realistically, there's no way we should have succeeded in this effort, but I guess for once luck was on my side.

"I suppose that depends on whether or not Micky returns," I say, my eyes shifting to the door as if I can make him magically appear. That doesn't happen, of course – at least not at that moment. It's not until after Lauren and Mary go get dinner for all of us, and we eat in the crowded apartment, that our thief returns.

It's impossible to read his expression as he walks through the door. He wears the same carefully neutral look that I spent my childhood perfecting, and I know it's for the same reason. It hides his secrets – and has kept him alive this long.

As he enters the room, my gaze turns to the young woman behind him. For a second, as she's half hidden behind Micky, all I see is her long, dark hair braided down her back. Then, her husband moves to the side, and I see the infant sleeping in her arms.

Something jumps a little inside me as the image from last night's dream flashes through my mind – of Tris holding a baby with deep blue eyes. And in that moment, I wonder what right I have to ask this couple to give up their ring, just for Tris to maybe wear it someday. The selfishness grates against my Abnegation instincts.

The woman scans the room, her gaze passing over David and Kevin before fixing on me. She steps closer.

"Tobias?"

"Yes," I answer levelly, standing and approaching her. She shifts the baby into one arm so she can shake my hand. Her grip is gentle.

"I'm Luella," she says. Holding the infant up a little more, she adds, "And this is Kaylee."

The movement exposes her left hand, and for a second, my eyes stop on the ring she's wearing. The image of it sitting on David's counter in the pawn shop so long ago flashes through me, and I know this is the right ring. But I force my gaze to continue on to the baby. She's cute, and again I feel a twinge of guilt.

"Let's sit down," Luella says, "and talk for a bit. I'd like to know more about the person who wants to buy my wedding ring."

The request surprises me, given that everyone in this country already knows more about me than I'd prefer, but I simply walk with her to the sitting area, taking a chair and silently gesturing for Kevin to leave us alone for now. He nods, drawing David with him to a different part of the room while Luella and Micky sit together on the couch. She settles the baby in-between them.

"Can you tell me why the ring is important to you?" Luella asks, her gaze meeting mine. Her voice is gentle, but I can't help feeling like everything rides on what I say next. And the problem is that these two live in a very different culture than where I grew up. I don't know what argument will convince them to sell.

"It belongs to Tris' grandmother, Anna," I begin, picking my words carefully. "We never would have chosen to sell it, but we had no other way to fund our mission against NUSA."

Luella cocks her head at me and asks, "Is Anna's husband still alive?"

"No." I shake my head, understanding why she wants to know. If he could give Anna another ring, there would be no reason to ask for this one back.

"He died trying to protect their children. And their daughter, in turn, died protecting Tris." I pause, scratching the back of my neck as I realize that's the crux of my argument. "Tris' father died the same way. And Tris doesn't have any photographs or mementos of them. She wasn't even able to bury them – others did that during the war. So, she has nothing left of them but memories...and guilt that they died for her."

Luella's expression is thoughtful as she gazes at her ring. "So, this connects Anna and her husband and children and Tris all together." It's a perceptive statement, and all I can do in response is nod.

She smiles a little. "I'm glad it's associated with so much love." Meeting my eyes again, she asks, "Are you planning to marry Tris?"

I freeze. "It's not…." I shake my head, my throat tight. "I don't know if that will ever happen," I manage to add, feeling the need to be honest. "But I believe the ring should be hers someday, whenever she does get married."

For a long moment, Luella regards me in silence. "But you do still love her, don't you?" she finally asks.

My eyes shift to my hands, and I stare at them while trying to figure out how to answer. My instinct in times like this is to hide the truth – to keep my secrets as I always have. But it's obvious that Luella wants to give the ring to me and Tris together. To the couple who ended NUSA. To celebrate the feelings that I broadcast to this entire country.

"That's not why I'm here," I finally say, my voice quiet. "But…yes." It's a difficult admission.

Luella nods slowly. Apparently, the answer satisfies her, because she turns her attention to her husband. He clears his throat.

"Um, maybe you could show her the rings you showed me?" he asks somewhat awkwardly, glancing between me and his wife.

Nodding wordlessly, I pull them out of my pocket, but I opt not to show them directly to Luella. Instead, I offer them to Micky. The corner of his mouth lifts as he takes them, giving me a brief look of gratitude.

"You can have them all," I tell him. His gaze returns to mine, startled, but before he can say anything, I add, "Sell the ones you don't want. I suspect you can do something better with the money than I can."

Luella's mouth quirks, and she gives a slight shake of her head. "You freed the whole country with the money from one ring," she mutters. "It's kind of hard to beat that."

There's no good response to that, so I stay silent, staring uncomfortably at the floor. After a moment, Luella adds, "But as it turns out, Micky has some experience using money to help others, so I'm sure we'll manage."

The words make me look up again, and I see her gazing at her husband with so much pride and love, I feel like I'm intruding merely by witnessing it. But it's also a familiar expression. I'm sure I wore it many times around Tris.

Micky extends his hand to his wife, showing her the rings that he now has laid out on his palm. She cocks her head, evaluating them carefully.

"I like the matched set," she says after a while. "I worry sometimes about scratching Kaylee with the stone on this one, so a plain band would be nice." She meets her husband's eyes and adds, "And it would mean a lot for you to have a matching ring."

He considers that, running a finger over the set she indicated, before he nods.

"I like that idea, too." But when she reaches for the rings, he pulls his hand back, frowning slightly.

"I think," he says slowly, "that we should have a new ceremony to go with the new rings. To make them ours."

Luella's eyebrows draw together uncertainly. "And when would we do that?"

Micky grins. "Right now." The words send a thread of worry through me, an effect that is amplified when he turns to me. "Would it be asking too much for you to officiate?"

The request catches me completely off guard, and for a long moment, I just stare. I've never even attended a wedding, unless you count the one I observed in my fear landscape. I certainly have no idea how to _perform_ the ceremony.

But I don't know how to refuse, either, not when they're doing this in order to return the ring to me. Not when it's the only way of getting it to Tris. So, all I say is, "I have no idea how. And I don't have any legal power, you know."

Micky laughs. "That part doesn't matter. We're already married." He pauses, clearly aware of my discomfort. "And it's okay if you don't have experience doing this. It would still mean a lot for _you_ to do it, after your broadcast."

For another moment, I hesitate, trying to think of a way out of this. But I understand what they're seeking. They want their renewal vows to reflect the values from my broadcast, and they assume I can do that.

"I'll do my best," I finally answer.

* * *

Kevin gives me tips on what to say while everyone else arranges the room for the impromptu ceremony. By the time they finish, Kaylee is awake, and Mary jiggles the baby on her hip while the others get in place for the ceremony.

Micky and Luella stand in front of me, of course, and Kevin stays nearby too, presumably to feed me lines if I forget them. Lauren and David, on the other hand, move to the outskirts of the room, letting Micky's family fill the rest of the space. Vaguely, I wonder if Luella has any living family members. If so, apparently they don't live close enough to be invited.

It's not until Kevin nudges me that I realize we're ready to proceed – and that the entire group is watching me expectantly. I clear my throat hastily.

"We are gathered here today," I begin, keeping my voice formal as Kevin suggested, "to celebrate the marriage of Michael and Luella O'Clery."

They both smile at me, but for some reason the friendly gesture causes a wave of nervousness to go through me, and the other words I just learned seem to vanish from my mind. _This is ridiculous – I have no idea what I'm doing._

But I felt the same way during my broadcast, and somehow I got through that. So, I take a deep breath and draw inspiration from the same person I did that time.

"I grew up in a city that was divided into factions, where each person was supposed to be defined by a single trait. But I was never satisfied with that. It was my goal to be more than that – to be all of those traits simultaneously."

I give a half-smile. "I didn't succeed very well. Until the day I met someone who changed my perspective on everything. She helped me to grow, and to be a better person. She made me stronger."

My eyes move to the couple before me. "I think that's what love should do."

They nod in agreement, gazing at each other with an intensity that I remember feeling so many times when I looked at Tris. It fills me with both joy and sorrow at the same time.

"Micky and Luella, do you promise to be kind to each other? To never harm each other, or your children? To support each other through the hard times? And to continuously celebrate the good times?"

When I pause, they murmur, "I do" in unison.

"Do you promise to be honest, and to always accept honesty from the other, even when it's difficult?" The corner of my mouth lifts. "_Especially_ when it's difficult?"

Again, they both say, "I do."

"Do you promise to think of the other first, and of your family, and to always try to give of yourselves selflessly?"

Luella smiles as they say the words simultaneously. "I do."

"Do you promise to face adversity together, bravely, side by side? No matter what comes?"

Micky stands straighter, jutting his chin out a little, at that statement, but again they respond at the same time. "I do."

"And do you promise to be thoughtful and smart, to trust each other and to talk to each other, and to arrive at decisions together?"

They both smile as they say their final, "I do."

I hesitate briefly, trying to figure out the right words for the next part, since they're already married. Finally, I come up with, "Then face each other as husband and wife and exchange your rings."

They turn to look at each other, and I watch as Luella slowly removes Anna's ring and places it on the small pillow that Micky's youngest brother is holding out to them. She then holds her hand out for Micky to slide the new ring onto her finger, both of them smiling through the tears in their eyes.

Luella next takes the matching ring from the pillow and places that carefully onto Micky's finger. Their hands lace together afterwards, and without waiting for me to say anything, they kiss – a deep, loving kiss that makes me look away, feeling again like I'm invading their privacy.

Apparently, no one else in the room feels that way, because they all burst into cheers, moving forward to embrace the couple. It's impossible not to smile as I watch them, and in that moment, I realize that I don't feel guilty anymore about asking them to return Anna's ring. This ceremony made it okay.

I'm still watching the family when Luella turns back to me. Taking Anna's ring from the pillow the boy is holding, she steps over to me calmly and holds it out with a gentle smile.

"Thank you for loaning this to us," she says. "And for everything else." She squeezes my arm lightly, and for once, I don't object to the touch, even when she stands on tip-toe to kiss my cheek. "The ceremony was perfect," she whispers as she hands me the ring.

My fingers close on the metal band, and for a few seconds, all I can do is stare at it, feeling the full impact of having succeeded. This ring will go back to Anna. And someday, presumably, _this ring_ will be on Tris' finger. I can't help but feel close to her as I hold it.

"Thank you," I tell Luella.

* * *

By the time we leave Mary's apartment, it's too late to head back to Chicago, so David invites us to stay with him again. Kevin accepts without consulting me, but I don't object. I'm too tired to drive, anyway.

Lauren walks with us, asking a variety of questions about what's happening in Chicago these days. Kevin and I take turns answering her.

"Do you plan to return at some point?" I eventually ask her.

"I haven't decided yet," she says thoughtfully. "Sometimes I miss it, but I like a lot of things about this place." She gestures around at the busy streets. "There's such a feeling of _hope_ here, with everyone rebuilding. Back home, with the factions, it was more about duty, and about following the same path as everyone else. But this city is about new ideas, and change. And I guess I kind of like that."

The corner of my mouth twitches. I can't say I ever thought of Lauren as anything other than Dauntless, but I guess it shows there's more depth in all of us than I tend to think.

"Are you going to hire Micky?" I ask.

"Yeah, I think so. Mary, too. That girl's got some serious guts. And they're both very resistant to the serum, which is always helpful." She nods a bit, and I remember Peter's argument back in the hospital in Philadelphia ages ago. The ousted leaders probably have the equipment and serum to influence anyone who comes after them, so it makes sense to send resistant people to capture them.

"Good idea," I comment, coming to a stop near the entrance to David's apartment building.

"Thanks for your help today, Lauren."

"No problem," she says, smiling. "Really. I was glad to do it."

She reaches to shake David's hand, and then Kevin's, exchanging basic farewells with them, before she turns back to me.

"It was good to see you again, Four. Say hi to Tori and Amar and…well, all the others for me, okay?"

"I will."

She grasps my hand firmly Dauntless-style, shaking her head a little at how bad I still am at that skill, before disappearing down the street. As she goes, I remember the last time we said goodbye, and how at the time I never expected to see her alive again. But I push the thought away. It reminds me of all the deaths and injuries on our mission, and of the last time I saw Tris – lying in a hospital bed with bandages hiding most of her body. I don't want to dwell on that.

Instead, I wrap my hand around the ring in my pocket, letting the feel of it ease the image from my mind. For the first time in months, I've done something good for Tris. Maybe I'll let myself dream about that tonight.

* * *

The drive back seems shorter than the one to Pittsburgh, with our moods lightened by success. As before, Kevin and I take turns driving, and we talk, but this time we stop occasionally to enjoy a view or to go through an abandoned city, curious to see the world between Chicago and the former NUSA.

It's not until the last stretch of the trip that Kevin grows serious again.

"How do you plan to return the ring?" he asks. It's an easy question to answer.

"Anna has been coming to Chicago regularly to meet with the city leaders. My mother included. I'll give it to her the next time she comes."

"Just her? Not Tris?"

"Just Anna," I confirm, sighing a little. I know the question means he doesn't trust my judgment regarding my former girlfriend. "Tris hasn't returned at all."

Kevin is silent for a moment before speaking again, his voice conflicted. "I'm not asking for the reasons you think, Tobias." That makes me glance at him for a second before turning back to the road.

"I…actually think you could handle being around Tris at this point."

That's not an easy statement to react to, so I stay quiet. But I'm pretty sure my breathing is a lot louder than normal.

"I'm not saying you'll necessarily get back together with her or anything. And I'm still not going to minimize what you did to her. But…you're a better person than you give yourself credit for." He pauses, looking out the window.

"So, if she ever returns to Chicago, and you want to see her…. Well, as your sponsor, I wouldn't have a problem with that."

I swallow hard, still not answering. Despite his words, I know I need to return the ring to Anna. It's what I've told myself all along, and I need to keep that promise. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate what he's saying.

After a few more moments of silence, Kevin adds, "And just so you know, I wouldn't have a problem with it as your _friend_, either."

A small smile curves my mouth. I may or may not ever have the woman I love in my life again, but it certainly helps to have friends.

_**A/N: Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I really, really love reviews!**_


	12. Chapter 12: Anna - Restoration

**_A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You flooded me with responses, and I really, really appreciate it. Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time while I was struggling between it and the previous one. You're both fantastic!_  
**

**Chapter 12: Anna – Restoration**

It always feels strange to be back in Chicago these days. It's so small compared with Philadelphia, and the factions seem so…_wealthy_.

It's also very different than how it was when I lived here. The streets are no longer filled with factionless people, and there's a mix of colors among the clothing I see everywhere I look. In some ways, it's more like the country we're struggling to form.

We're getting close to that goal, I must say. The economy is doing much better, and there's a sense of community that Margot says never existed before. It keeps getting better as we wipe out the remaining traces of NUSA, too. Peter estimates that over ninety percent of the former leaders have been killed or imprisoned, and he's working hard on the rest.

And between Tris and our leadership group, we've finalized the structure we want for the new government. We've even picked out a name: the United Citizens of America, or the UCA. I think it has a nice ring to it.

The next big step will be to hold elections, but that will take a while to arrange. Tris is optimistic, though, and she has Caleb working on organizing the voting structure and getting equipment in place. Of course, that might have something to do with her desire to finish her term in office. I can't blame her. She's worked harder over the last months than I've ever seen anyone manage, and she certainly deserves a break.

We all do, really. I know I'm thoroughly exhausted, too, and I can't say I'm excited to be back here for the fifth time, still trying to figure out the details for Chicago to be part of the UCA. My first trip was a disaster, with Evelyn and Tori at each other's throats the way they were when we were preparing for NUSA's attack. I wouldn't have returned the second time if Tris hadn't had such a strong sentimental attachment to this city.

But after three more trips, I _finally_ managed to work out an arrangement that both Evelyn and Tori were willing to accept, and the other city leaders quickly followed suit. I'm hopeful that this trip will be the last one we need to iron out the details.

I look around the small office that the leaders let me use whenever I'm here. It's in the Erudite headquarters, and part of me wonders if Douglas was ever in this room, before he transferred to Dauntless so many years ago. Before I met him.

My fingers find the ring that I wear around my neck – the one I slipped onto his finger at our wedding ceremony decades ago. It's a good thing I didn't have it with me when Tris and Tobias and the others left on their mission last year, or it would have been sold along with mine. I certainly don't regret giving them my ring – the money from it probably saved their lives – but I'm glad to have this one to comfort me on long days.

I know Douglas would be proud of what our grandchildren have accomplished, and touching this ring reminds me of that. Of him.

I jump at the sudden knock on the door. It's after dinner, and I can't imagine who would be here to see me this late in the day. Even Evelyn is generally long gone by now.

But I was Dauntless for far too long to hesitate. "Come in," I call.

Tobias Eaton enters the room. He's dressed in the mix of colors I've come to associate with his Kaizen faction – black pants with a gray and blue button-down shirt – and he looks serious, as I've always seen him.

"Tobias," I say in surprise. "What can I help you with?"

He pauses awkwardly just inside the door, standing so tall that his head almost hits the top of the door frame. But when I gesture to the guest chair, he doesn't take it. He's presumably nervous to be seeing me again, given that I'm Tris' grandmother.

"Please," I say with a smile, "have a seat." I feel bad about how things fell apart between him and my granddaughter, but I want him to know that I don't dislike him for it. With everything he did to help the rebels, and the citizens of NUSA, and those in Chicago, it's impossible to hold a grudge against him for leaving afterwards. Particularly when I know he only left because he was trying to protect Tris.

"Thanks," he says quietly, "but I'm fine standing." He shifts a little, uncertainly, before reaching into his pocket and removing something. He crosses my office in a single long step, extending his hand to me over the desk.

"I just need to give this back to you."

I don't know what to expect, but I hold my hand out automatically. Whatever I might have thought was coming, it certainly wasn't what he places gingerly on my palm.

I'm staring at the wedding ring Douglas gave me.

"But…" I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "But you sold this. Tris said you had to." I touch it lightly with my forefinger, tracing its smooth, familiar lines. It's definitely my ring.

"Yeah, we did," Tobias says. His voice is still soft – and more emotional than I can remember hearing it. "But I went back for it."

I look up slowly, meeting his gaze. Somehow, I never noticed before just how blue his eyes are.

"It didn't feel right to sell it," he adds, "so I found a way to retrieve it."

For a long moment, we just stare at each other. There's no doubt in my mind why he did this, but even though it wasn't for me, I'm grateful beyond words that he did it.

"Thank you," I murmur. He just nods, turning to go.

"Wait," I say quickly. "Can I at least pay you back for it?"

He shakes his head, turning toward me again. "No," he says firmly. Apparently, he's not a man of many words.

He rubs the back of his neck in silence for another second, not quite meeting my gaze. His voice is quieter when he adds, "But…someday, if Tris ever gets married, maybe you could give it to her?" His eyes are dark with emotion. "That seems like it would be right."

The words pull something from deep inside me – some answering devotion from my life with Douglas.

"That was always my intention," I tell him softly. "Natalie couldn't use it, since she lived in Abnegation, so I always planned to give it to Tris if she was in a position to wear it."

He nods. "Good."

"Tobias…." I hesitate, knowing that he probably wants to leave, to let his emotions out in a more private place. But I have to tell him….

"I'd be honored if you were the one to put it on her finger someday."

He doesn't answer, but I can see him swallow. After a moment, he turns away, presumably wanting to hide his reaction. He's halfway to the door when he stops for the second time.

"How is she?" he manages to ask, his voice rough with feeling.

It's a difficult question to answer. She's certainly not over him, which is undoubtedly what he's really asking. And it's obvious that he's not over her. But I don't know if he actually wants to hear that from me.

"She's all right," I finally say. "She spends a lot of time with me, and with Caleb, and working. I don't know if I'd call her happy, but it helps to have family around."

He nods, still with his back to me, before he leaves, pulling the door shut behind him. I stare after him for a long time, vaguely wondering if he'll return, before I move my gaze back to the ring in my hand. I turn it over and over, feeling every part of it and remembering so many moments with my husband, and my family.

"I love you, Douglas," I whisper before I lift the chain off my neck, opening the clasp and sliding my ring onto the necklace next to his. I can't wear it on my finger without causing Tris to ask about it, and for now, I'd rather not broach that subject. She needs more time to heal.

But I hold both rings together in my hand for a long while, feeling them pressed against each other for the first time in far too long. There's a small smile on my face as I put the necklace back on, letting the rings slip behind my shirt and against my heart. It's strange that such a little piece of metal could make me feel so complete again.

* * *

_**A/N: This obviously concludes the part of the story that revolves around getting the ring back. The next part follows Anna to Philadelphia and focuses on Tris. That part will have more action and will give you a chance to see how Tris grows during her time away from Tobias. After that, they'll finally get back together. As a reminder, though, this story interacts with my "Determinant" story, so their reunion is the one that's in that story. They don't get together before that, but I will definitely include multiple chapters after that reunion.**_

_**Anyway, please take a moment to review and let me know what you thought of this chapter. I'm in the middle of drafting some of the heavy action sequence, so I could use motivation to write quickly! :-)**_


	13. Chapter 13: Anna - Incident

******_A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is a day late. I had to write it along with the next three in order to iron out the flow of events properly. On the bright side, that means it won't be nearly as long before I post the next one._**

******_ As always, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I know I say this a lot, but I really, really appreciate your feedback and support. You always keep me going when it's hard to find time to write._**

******_Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time while I was trying to get it to work with the following ones. You're both fantastic!_**

* * *

**Chapter 13: Anna – Incident**

Tris is clearly delighted to see me. It's obvious from the worn expression on her face and the way she hugs me for an extra-long time that she's had a rough week and missed having her grandmother around. Perhaps it will help to deliver some good news.

"Chicago is officially part of the UCA," I tell her triumphantly.

"_Finally_," she breathes out in relief. "I was about to send Christina to knock some sense into Evelyn."

Judging by how she bites her lip, she immediately thinks better of the words. And it's no wonder, given how often Marcus apparently attempted to do exactly that.

"I didn't mean it that way," she says quickly.

"I know." I place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Trust me, I understand. The negotiations were long and frustrating, and Evelyn was certainly _not_ a joy to work with. But in the end, she led the city leaders in the vote, and it was unanimous."

"With no other modifications to the deal?" Tris asks skeptically.

"None, thank God. I couldn't have handled a _sixth_ trip."

She chuckles, looking at me warmly. "Thank you again for doing that," she says after a moment. "It was important to me."

I nod in acknowledgement before admitting, "Actually, I'm glad you were so insistent on it. I would have given up earlier if you hadn't been, but it's much better that they'll be part of our country."

The words are true, but they seem to make her more thoughtful than happy. "I hope so," she murmurs, looking away as if she's debating adding something else.

For once, I have no idea what's going through her head. I consider asking, but instead I decide to give her some time. After a little while, she continues on her own.

"I've been thinking about moving back there," she comments, her voice careful. "After the new government is in place, and they don't need me anymore. It…would be nice, I think."

"I always assumed that you would," I respond, wondering what she isn't saying. She's hiding _something_ behind that tone.

"I probably will, too," I add, "though I'm not sure exactly where within the city. The bomb shelter is closed now, and the Dauntless compound would be rather hard to navigate at my age." My lips curve upwards at the admission. "Maybe I'll return to my roots and live in Abnegation."

An answering smile forms on her face – the type we both grew up seeing. Small, with no teeth showing. It makes me rethink my answer. I'm not sure I want to spend the rest of my life looking at nothing but a polite veneer.

"Personally," Tris says, her voice sounding nervous, "I was thinking of living in Christina's faction."

My eyebrow lifts on its own as I suddenly understand her hesitation. The last I knew, Christina lived in Tobias' Kaizen faction. So, she's basically admitting that she wants to be near him again.

Tris clears her throat before adding, "She's still my closest friend." The words are defensive.

For a moment, I just watch her, wondering how much I should push the conversation. It's been difficult for her to learn to open up, as it is for everyone who's raised in Abnegation, and it has often proven to be a good thing to nudge her into talking more.

But at the same time, she rarely wants to discuss her former boyfriend. It's obvious that she still thinks about him a lot, but the subject seems to be painful, and I don't want to make that worse.

"I think," I begin carefully, "that where you live is up to you. And if you choose the Kaizen faction, I'm sure that _all_ of its members would be delighted to have you there."

She looks away, biting her lip as if she doesn't quite believe me. Maybe this would be a good time to tell her about my conversation with Tobias, and about how he retrieved my ring. He clearly did it for her, after all.

But before I can decide, Caleb comes in the door, looking as exhausted as his sister.

"Nana!" he exclaims, plainly thrilled to see me, and the corners of my mouth tug upwards at the term. It's close to my name, and is a commonly used word for grandmother, so as we started to become close, he suggested using it for me. Tris was a little slower to adopt it, but I have to admit it's nice to have both of them calling me that now. It makes us more of a family.

Caleb steps over to me, hugging me as tightly as Tris did. It makes me wonder just what happened this week to have them both so tired and upset.

"Did you run into any trouble on your trip?" he asks in concern.

"No," I respond simply, "but it sounds like something is going on?" I move my gaze between the two of them. "Please enlighten me."

They exchange a glance before Caleb sighs. "There was an incident in Morgantown. One of the old NUSA families managed to get serum into the drinking water for the entire town and started broadcasting messages to them." His expression is sour.

"Fortunately," he continues, "the person they used to send the transmission wasn't…." He glances at Tris, who looks away uncomfortably, and he clears his throat. "Well, she wasn't nearly as good at it as Tobias, so it didn't work the way they wanted. But it resulted in a small riot, and twenty-three people were killed."

Tris looks up again, frowning as she says, "Peter and Lauren took a task force in there and captured what was left of the family, so they won't be a problem again. But we don't know how many others are still out there, and this just shows that they're getting bolder."

"Or more desperate," I comment. "As we get closer and closer to elections, they must know that their chances of restoring NUSA are vanishing."

"That's what I said," Caleb agrees, glancing at his sister again. "I think it's normal to see more activity now. It doesn't mean anything new is going wrong."

I turn my attention to Tris, too, studying her expression. She's obviously more worried than her brother, and it's easy to tell why.

"You still don't trust Peter, do you?"

"Can you blame me?" She rubs her hands up her cheeks in a frustrated motion. "For all we know, he's been lying in his status reports to make himself look better. It's the kind of thing he would do."

Caleb sighs. "That's not fair," he says softly. "I know Peter has done some awful things in the past, but there were valid reasons for giving him this position, and I still think it was the right thing to do." He rubs the back of his neck in a gesture that always reminds me of Tobias. "He's done a very good job."

"So you keep telling me," Tris states shortly, and I can't help wincing at the doubt in her tone. She forgave Caleb for his betrayal a long time ago, but there's a difference between forgiveness and trust. She still struggles with the latter.

But in this particular case, I agree with Caleb.

"Tris," I begin reassuringly, "I have personally talked with many of the people that Peter works with, including Lauren – who, as you say, was involved in this cleanup. And they've all told me that he's done a phenomenal job of tracking down the NUSA leaders and capturing them. I don't think we should doubt that just because of one incident – even if we _are_ talking about Peter."

Her eyes move to mine as she debates that, biting her lip uncertainly. She and I have a good relationship at this point, and I know she trusts my judgment as much as I trust hers, but her dislike of Peter runs deep. It's certainly understandable.

"Peter _has_ changed, you know," Caleb says, his voice almost pleading as he looks between me and his sister. In some ways, I think he feels like Tris won't fully trust him until she forgives Peter, too. "He'll never admit it, but Tobias' broadcast affected him…. Not as much as the rest of us, but some."

This time, there's no way to miss Tris' skepticism. "I don't see _him_ rubbing the back of his neck," she remarks somewhat caustically, "or biting his lip, or looking at me the way virtually everyone else does."

I can't help smiling a little at the comment. Caleb picked up _all_ of those habits from the broadcast…as did the vast majority of the population. It occurs to me that I should mention that.

"True enough," I say calmly. Caleb opens his mouth in protest, but I hold up a hand to stop him. "And that might or might not indicate much about Peter. But ultimately, it doesn't really matter. Because the fact that you see those mannerisms in _everyone else_ tells us all we need to know."

They both look at me as I continue. "It tells us that Tobias' message still affects them. And no matter how many transmissions the old NUSA families manage to get out there, they'll never be able to counter that. Not enough to pose a wide-scale danger." I shake my head. "His broadcast was simply too strong."

For a moment, they're silent, digesting that. Tris looks thoughtful as she says, "Peter might be able to do it."

I don't even have to think before I shake my head. "He has the _ability_, yes," I respond, "but there's a reason we never considered him for that part of the mission. He doesn't _feel_ deeply enough to put real emotion behind a message, and the broadcast draws its power from emotion. Peter could never override what Tobias sent."

I meet her eyes, making sure she knows how much I mean it as I emphasize that again. "_Never_."

And finally, she nods.

* * *

******_A/N: The next chapter starts a long action sequence. I'm going to try very hard to update twice a week throughout that sequence, so I don't keep you waiting too long. In the meantime, please take a moment to leave a review. Those always motivate me to post quickly! :-)_**


	14. Chapter 14: Tris - Recruiting

******_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I always appreciate your support more than I can say. Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time. You're truly fantastic!_**

* * *

**Chapter 14: Tris – Recruiting**

Sometimes it amazes me how much this country has changed since the first time I saw it. It took an incredible amount of work, and ideas from everyone on my council, to get things to where they are today, but I think we're all very glad to have played a part in this. I know I never expected to be able to do something so worthwhile with my life.

I guess that's why I'm still afraid that we'll lose it all. That things will turn around as quickly as they did in Chicago, when Jeanine destroyed decades of peace for her own personal gain. It's all too easy to imagine some of the former NUSA families finding a way to do the same thing here, no matter how much progress Peter reports.

Still, I know we can't let that risk stop us. We have to keep moving forward.

Currently, that means finding candidates to run in the elections we'll be holding next month. I didn't expect that to be hard, since people are so anxious to help any way they can these days. But it seems that after a lifetime of being told by NUSA to mind their place, most people don't believe they're qualified to lead the government.

Margot has been struggling for the last six weeks to recruit candidates, so I'm not overly surprised when she asks me to give speeches in certain parts of the country where she's had no luck. She thinks that people will listen to me even if they don't believe her, and she's probably right about that. As Anna pointed out, they're still strongly affected by Tobias' broadcast.

So, for the first time since I took office, I find myself traveling around the country. It's an enjoyable change of pace, after spending so much time in meetings lately.

Nigel and Michelle come with me, of course, serving as my bodyguards the way they always do when I'm out in public. I find it unnecessary, personally, since I'm certainly not helpless – and since it's hard to imagine anyone trying to hurt me after Tobias' transmission. He made the entire population love me too much for that.

But I don't argue. They need the jobs, and it makes Anna feel better to have them with me.

Caleb comes too, claiming it will give him a chance to ensure everything is prepared for the elections. But I suspect he's still nervous about what happened in Morgantown and wants to make sure I stay safe. I can't decide if I should be annoyed by that or not. It seems hypocritical, with how much he's told me I shouldn't worry about that incident, but at the same time…it's nice to have my brother care about me again.

The first speech is in Stafford. The weather is even hotter than in Philadelphia, and sweat is dripping into my eyes by the time I finish. I try to describe what the different elected positions will be like, and what traits are needed for each one, and I encourage the audience to come to a follow-up session if they're willing to consider any of those jobs.

It seems to work, since more than a dozen people show up for the second session, and out of those, we end up with enough candidates for the area.

We follow the same model in Durham, Greensboro, Roanoke, and Harrisonburg, growing progressively wearier with each repetition. But even though it's tiring to be on the road, sleeping in a different place every night, there's something refreshing about seeing the excitement grow in each audience's eyes. They believe me when I tell them they can do this type of job – that they're worthy of it – and the Abnegation in me loves seeing that transition.

The drive to Greensburg is long, and we have to navigate some rough highways to get there. I haven't endured such a bumpy ride since our trip from the bomb shelter to Pittsburgh so long ago. It makes me think of Tobias, but that's hardly unusual. He passes through my thoughts a dozen times a day, between my own memories and all the reminders there are of him in the population.

But I brush the thoughts away, as I typically try to do. He made his choice when he left, and we both have to live with that. Even if it will always be hard.

We stay in a red brick building that's unlike any I've ever seen before, with a clock tower and arches and a strange sprawling design. It's pretty, in its own unique way, and I find myself wanting to take a walk after dinner, just to see the area.

Caleb comes with me, as he often does, and when Nigel and Michelle insist on following us, my private little walk turns into a party of four. But it doesn't really bother me. My bodyguards will remain just far enough away to give us privacy, and Caleb's presence might at least take my mind off my former boyfriend.

We follow the train tracks that run nearby, walking through a mix of wooded areas and low buildings. It looks nothing like Chicago, or Philadelphia for that matter.

"I wonder what it would be like to live in a place like this," I comment idly as I kick a pebble away from the train tracks. "Somewhere this small."

Caleb shrugs, his lips pursed thoughtfully. "Population-wise, Chicago is much closer to this place than it is to Philadelphia." The comparison startles me. "Though obviously Chicago used to have a larger population than it currently does, or it wouldn't have so many skyscrapers."

I nod, but it's difficult to imagine the city we grew up in ever being as crowded as Philadelphia, or filled with buildings as short as this town's.

"Do you think you'll move back there, once the new government has been elected?" I ask curiously.

Caleb considers that for a moment. "Yes, I suppose so," he finally answers. "I've stayed in touch with two of my friends from initiation. It would be good to see them again."

A vague feeling of unease spreads through me at that admission. I know that not everyone in Erudite was evil – or even supported Jeanine – but given what Caleb did to me while he was there, it's hard to be comfortable with the idea of him talking with those friends.

He apparently notices my discomfort. "Don't worry," he says softly. "They were my friends _before_ Jeanine drugged me. They didn't like what she made me do."

I don't answer.

Sighing, Caleb adds, "I imagine it's a little like how Dauntless was. By the time we were initiates, Erudite had wandered from its ideals. Its leaders took it in the wrong direction, even before Jeanine, though she obviously made things a lot worse." He gives me a sad look. "But there was a good basis to the faction once, and I caught glimpses of that when I was there."

The words hit home. I remember feeling as if I lived in two versions of Dauntless at the same time: the one that believed in ordinary acts of bravery and celebrated freedom, and the one that forced initiates to beat each other and promoted savagery. It's easy to imagine the same kind of divide within Erudite.

"My friends say it's very different now," Caleb continues. "More like its old values. I'd be interested in seeing that."

For some reason, my aptitude test from so long ago comes to mind, and I remember that I had as much of an affinity for Erudite as my brother. Maybe, if that faction weren't so deeply associated with horror in my mind, I'd consider living there, too. But as it is, I know I never will.

We're interrupted by the sound of a loud horn bellowing through the air, and I glance up to see a freight train approaching.

"That's the same line we took from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia last year," Caleb comments, raising his voice to make himself heard over the rumbling that is fast approaching.

I watch for a long moment, remembering that ride. It's associated with Marcus and death and pain, but what really stands out the most is the way Tobias attacked his father for hurting me. It was as if something deep inside him finally snapped, and he couldn't tolerate the man who abused him any longer. I shouldn't be surprised that I was his breaking point.

Stepping away from the train tracks, I sigh deeply, frustrated with the memory – and with myself. I should _never_ have allowed Marcus to come on that trip with us. It put far too much strain on Tobias, and ultimately, that's why we're no longer together.

But it's impossible to know how things would have gone if he hadn't been there. The reality is that Tobias delivered exactly the message this country needed to hear, and he probably wouldn't have done that if he hadn't felt so guilty for hitting me. And _I_ certainly wouldn't have sent that message if I'd been the one to give the broadcast.

Turning back to the building where we're staying, I sigh again. However much I may hate it personally, maybe things turned out just the way they should have.

* * *

It's early afternoon when we walk to where I'll be giving my speech, on the steps in front of a beautiful old gray stone building. The street has already been cordoned off by security forces in order to keep cars out, and I watch as the audience gathers, filling the road in front of me and stretching off to the sides. It's a good-sized crowd.

As my eyes scan them, I pause on someone familiar dressed in a police uniform. It takes me a second to process who she is. _Lauren._ Margot must have brought in extra security from Pittsburgh for my speech. I suppose that makes sense, given how close we are to Morgantown, where the riot occurred just a few weeks ago.

That incident still bothers me, despite Anna and Caleb's reassurances. We've been working for eight months to eradicate all the serum and broadcasting equipment that NUSA had, and to capture the former leaders and their allies. We shouldn't have missed an operation of that size.

But I don't let it distract me. Instead, I listen as Margot introduces me, as she's done every time so far, and then I begin talking into the microphone. The speech has become routine by now, and I pause automatically at all the right points to let the audience absorb what I'm saying. They're even kind enough to laugh at the few jokes I include, though I know they're not very funny. I still struggle with humor.

I'm at the point of describing the follow-up session when the noise stops me. It's been eight months since I've heard gunshots, but it's impossible not to recognize the sound. It drills into every nerve in my body, causing adrenaline to surge though me instantly.

The crowd screams in a mixture of panic and confusion as they begin simultaneously running toward safety and seeking to protect each other. Through the milling forms, I see the security guards scanning the area rapidly, looking for the shooter. I have a slight height advantage from my position on the stone steps, and for a moment, I stand still, using it to search as well.

Caleb literally knocks the thought away when he crashes into me. He pushes me roughly behind a large pillar and down to the stone landing, covering me with his body to keep me safe. Around him, I can just make out the forms of Nigel and Michelle standing between us and the threat, their guns drawn and their bodies tense.

My heart is racing, and all I can think is that Caleb is guarding me the way Tobias did in the Candor headquarters so long ago. But this time, I'm not incapacitated with fear.

"Everyone, drop to the ground!" I shout through the microphone that I'm still wearing. There's no guarantee that approach will keep them safe, but it's got to be better than trampling each other. And it should make it easier for the police to spot the shooter.

Perhaps it works, because another volley of shots rings out. This time, there are clearly multiple guns involved. I wince when I hear my bodyguards firing, their weapons close enough to blast through my eardrums.

"Get them inside!" Michelle shouts, and suddenly Nigel is pulling Caleb off me and shoving him toward the building.

I begin to rise, too, but Nigel stops me for a second, his fingers finding the microphone that I'm still wearing, yanking it from me, and throwing it hard away from us. The screech of feedback splits the air, painfully loud.

"Don't want the shooter to know where you go," he explains shortly as he pushes me after my brother, following closely behind and using his body to shield me.

It's difficult not to resist. It goes against all my instincts from both Dauntless and Abnegation to leave these people behind, in danger, while I run for my life. But at the same time, I'm undoubtedly the target, and that means that my presence is probably just increasing their risk.

So, I force myself to move toward the doors, staying low and dodging from side to side to make it harder to shoot me. Nigel sticks with me, still shielding me, while Michelle covers our escape.

I hear her cry of pain as we enter the building, but when I try to turn to see what happened, Nigel just shoves me forward, using his body to block my view – and undoubtedly any bullets that might follow me.

"We have to help her," I start, panicked, but Nigel doesn't even pause.

"No," he says firmly, his voice the most commanding I've ever heard it. "Our job is to keep you safe. _You_ don't stop for _us_!"

The words rankle, but by now Caleb is pulling at me from the front while Nigel pushes me from behind, and there's no choice but to keep moving.

We make our way into the large lobby of the building, our footsteps echoing off the dark marble tile that covers the floor and walls. It's probably a government building, judging by the handful of sleeping areas that are set up for homeless people to use, but it looks to be deserted right now. Something about it bothers me.

Nigel stops, his large hand on my shoulder forcing me to stop with him, as he surveys the room quickly. His other hand is extended, with his gun ready to fire, while he checks to make sure the path ahead is clear.

Apparently, he decides there's more risk from ahead than behind right now, because he gives a tense, "Follow me," before taking the lead. Before I can respond, Caleb switches positions with him, guarding my back as he places a hand on my shoulder to keep me moving. It makes me want to scream with frustration, being sandwiched between them as if I'm a helpless child, but I hold my tongue. If I resist, it will just slow us all down, and that will only increase their danger.

So, I continue forward. Something is still nagging at me – some thought trying to find its way forward through the rush of events. But I don't know what it is, and there's no time to stop and figure it out.

We're halfway across the lobby when two men rush into the room from a hallway on the left. It's difficult to see them around Nigel's large frame, but I can tell that they're wearing the same type of uniform as Lauren – and that they're holding guns out in front of them as they race forward, looking around rapidly.

They slide to a halt in front of us, aiming their guns at Nigel while he aims at them as they all assess the situation.

"Pittsburgh PD," one of them says abruptly, apparently identifying himself. His gaze roams our group, pausing when he catches a glimpse of me peering out from behind Nigel. His eyes widen.

"Go down the way we came," he says quickly, jerking his head to the hallway they just emerged from. "There's a room there where she'll be safe."

Nigel stares for another second before nodding slowly. He moves forward hesitantly while the other two move just as uncertainly around him toward the doors. It's a strange dance of distrust.

Caleb pushes me forward, following after Nigel toward the hallway the others indicated, but I turn my head, looking after the Pittsburgh officers. I can still hear shouting and gunfire leaking into the building from outside, and the sound churns through my mind.

It solidifies the thought that has been nagging at me.

There is too much gunfire for this to be a single shooter. And if there are multiple attackers, it would make no sense for them to _all_ be outside, not when they knew I'd be standing in front of a building that I could retreat into. It's much more likely that their goal was to drive me in here, where they must have allies waiting….

"Stop," I say urgently, but the gunshot echoes so loudly through the room that I'm sure no one hears my voice.

Nigel's head whips forward, specks of blood flying through the air around him as he crashes to the floor, face-first, making no attempt to catch himself. I know he's gone even before I see the dark liquid spreading through his hair, but for a moment, time freezes, and all I can do is stare at him. _At the body of yet another person who died for me._

Caleb is turning toward the men who just passed us, his arms out as he tries to shield me behind him. Under his right arm, I can see that they're only a few feet away, and they're both pointing their guns directly at him.

One of them smiles, a vicious grin that reminds me far too much of Eric. His eyes find mine as he says, "Do exactly as you're told, or your brother dies, too."

* * *

******_A/N: Sorry about the cliffhanger. As I mentioned before, I'm going to try very hard to update twice a week throughout the current action sequence, so I don't keep you waiting too long. In the meantime, please take a moment to leave a review. Those always motivate me to post quickly! :-)_**


	15. Chapter 15: Tris - Treatened

**********_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really, really appreciate your support. Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time. You're amazing!_**

**Chapter 15: Tris – Threatened**

It has been a very long time since my simulations in Dauntless, but they come rushing back at this moment – at the sight of the guns aimed at Caleb's head. He freezes in terror, but he holds his position, still trying to shield me behind him, and I'm reminded of the selflessness he showed in my worst fear. The one where I had to shoot my family.

"Don't listen to them, Beatrice," he says hoarsely, as if the words are catching in his throat. "Just run, and don't look back."

But I already know I can't do that. Even without Nigel bleeding on the floor next to us, I know that I can't let my brother die for me, the way our parents did. I just can't.

"No," I tell him simply. Grabbing his arm, I hold him in place as I step beside him to face our attackers.

"We surrender," I say tensely.

* * *

They clearly planned this well. Our captors march us through the building to a large, windowless room where three others wait. There, they force us to change into new clothes, pulling wigs over our hair to make it even harder to recognize us.

"If either of you gets noticed, you both die," one of them states clearly, looking at each of us in turn to make sure we understand. Caleb hesitates only briefly before nodding, and I know he won't try anything. He may be willing to sacrifice himself to save me, but he doesn't want to get me killed any more than I want to do that to him.

So, we walk quietly with them out the back door of the building and onto the street. There's a gun aimed at each of us at all times – and kept hidden from everyone else – as we walk down the streets of this small city. I pay close attention to our route, hoping we have the chance to reverse it at some point.

Most of the time, we move with others who are fleeing from the shooting, but sometimes we find ourselves alone. Twice, someone in a security uniform passes nearby, clearly looking for us, but I don't dare to call out or even meet their eyes.

After five minutes or so, our captors lead us into an apartment building. It's much quieter than I've come to expect from Philadelphia, and I have to wonder if we're the only ones here.

They shuffle us through the empty hallways and up three flights of stairs, our footsteps echoing slightly in the silence, before unlocking a door and shoving us into the room beyond.

We're in a large open space that's filled with a variety of equipment. A computer sits in the middle, attached to an all-too-familiar apparatus, and on the outskirts of the room, large satellite dishes face toward the outer walls. It's a broadcasting setup.

A cold feeling sinks all the way through my stomach as I understand why they wanted to take us alive. They plan to have me broadcast a message of their choice, and they'll make me cooperate by threatening Caleb, as they've been doing so far.

I should have seen this coming. Anna was right that they don't have anyone powerful enough to counter Tobias' broadcast. _Except me._ I'm the only way they can regain their power.

"You know where they go," a man says gruffly, and my eyes focus instantly on him. He's older than the ones who captured us, and heavy-set, with gray hair that sits close to his head around a large bald spot. Everything about him says that he's used to being obeyed.

And the others in the room do exactly that. The hands grasping us haul us to two separate chairs that are facing each other. Both are built of solid wood – far too sturdy to break – and are covered with metal restraints. A quick glance at their feet shows that they're also bolted to the floor. Once we're in these chairs, we won't be able to escape on our own.

The thought makes me fight back, and it apparently has the same effect on Caleb. But we no sooner start thrashing than a woman near Caleb takes a knife and slashes it across his face. I freeze as blood starts flowing freely from the wound.

She takes a step toward me next, but Caleb has already stopped fighting.

"Don't!" he calls, panicked. "Don't hurt her! I won't resist anymore." But the woman just laughs.

"Too late," she snarls, moving closer to me, clearly intending to punish me for Caleb's behavior the same way she just punished him for mine. But I don't resist, knowing that it would just cause my brother more pain. Instead, I lock my gaze with hers, making it clear that I'm not afraid of her. It's probably a lie.

The older man speaks just before she can swipe me with the blade. "Leave her for now, Meghan." The woman stops instantly.

I should be relieved by the reprieve, but instead it makes my heart sink even more. It tells me that they want to keep me in good shape so they can use me. It's Caleb that they'll hurt, over and over until I cooperate. And I don't know how to withstand that.

But neither of us fights as they strap us into the chairs.

"_Madam President_," the older man sneers, looking me straight in the face once he knows I'm helpless. "You stole something from me. And now you're going to help me get it back."

A cruel smile forms on his face as he makes a gesture to the man who reminded me of Eric earlier. "Sam," he says simply.

Sam makes no direct response, but he turns toward Caleb without hesitation and drives a fist deep into his stomach. For a full second, Caleb sits rigidly upright, every part of him seemingly frozen, and then he sags against his restraints, a low groan coming from him as his face twists in agony.

It's almost impossible not to react, but I force myself to stay expressionless. _They won't kill Caleb_, I tell myself. They need him alive to try to make me cooperate. And that means that they can't hurt him too badly – not enough to really risk his life.

_I hope._

But that doesn't make it any easier to watch as Sam slams his fist into my brother over and over, smashing his stomach and ribs and face. I don't lose my willpower until his fingers jab into Caleb's throat, causing him to cough and choke violently. Blood sputters from his mouth, and suddenly I can't take this anymore.

"Stop it!" I yell. "Stop! At least tell me what you want."

"Oh, I'm sure you know that already," the older man says softly. It's a dangerous kind of soft. "A _smart_ girl like you…."

He gestures to Sam again, and I scream helplessly as he pounds another punch into my brother, who's still struggling to breathe. This one sounds like it broke a rib.

"The thing you need to understand, _Tris_," our tormentor says, "is that _he_ will be punished for every second you delay, and for _every little thing_ you do wrong." He gestures around the room and adds, "And we have all kinds of ways of punishing him."

To accentuate the point, Sam yanks a handful of hair from Caleb's head, sending the wig they put on him earlier flying across the room as he pulls the real hairs out by their roots. My brother has been incredibly stoic through all of this, but he screams in pain now. The sound tears through me.

"Don't," I gasp desperately, trying to think of some way to stop them. "Don't do this."

The whole situation seems utterly hopeless. We can't get out of here by ourselves, and right now it feels like no one will ever find us. All I can do is try to buy time.

"Just…please…tell me what you want," I plead again. "I can get you ransom money if that's it." It's a foolish offer, since I know it's not even remotely what they're seeking, but part of me hopes that if I act ignorant, they'll stop torturing Caleb while they explain.

It doesn't work. "Wrong answer!" the older man snaps.

With a grin that makes Eric look like a Saint, the man gestures to Meghan. She smiles back the same way as she pulls a piece of equipment closer to my brother. It's large, with wires and connectors hanging from it and dials covering its control panel. I don't want to think about what it does.

She takes her time connecting Caleb to it, clearly enjoying every second of the process. He tries not to react, but I can see his eyes roaming over it fearfully. He must figure out what it is, because he can't quite suppress a whimper. It cuts through my heart.

"No," I plead again. "Don't do this," but she never pauses.

When she finishes connecting my brother, she turns to the older man. "Mr. Larimer?" she asks calmly. He nods.

With a malicious smile, she flicks a switch, and then Caleb is writhing and screaming in pain as a buzzing sound of some type fills the room. _Electricity_, I realize with a sense of horror. They're electrocuting him.

"Stop!" I shout in wild desperation, unable to look away and unable to even _think_ in the face of my brother's agony. "Just stop!"

I now understand why Tobias revealed the locations of the factionless safe-houses when I was being tortured in Erudite. He didn't have any more choice than I do.

"Tell me what message you want me to send!"

Mr. Larimer snaps his fingers, and the woman turns the machine off. Caleb slouches in his seat, not moving, and for one terrified moment, I think he's dead. But then he lifts his head enough to stare at me, silently begging me not to give in. _I don't know what else to do._

Closing my eyes, I turn away from him, toward Mr. Larimer.

Our tormentor smiles again. "It's very simple, really," he says smoothly. "You will transmit a message stating that you are resigning immediately, and that the new president will be me." His grin widens. "Brian Larimer."

"You will transfer _all_ power to me and will tell everyone to obey me without question."

"And then?" I'm surprised I'm able to ask that question.

Brian arches an eyebrow at me. "And then," he answers calmly, "you will do the same thing again in every town and city around the country."

Despite everything, the answer is strangely reassuring. If he needs me to repeat the message that many times, his current broadcasting setup must have a very limited range. And that means that if I do this, I'll only be affecting a small population – one that Brian will undoubtedly want to keep alive to help him get everything set up in the next town. And he'll keep Caleb alive, too, to ensure my continued cooperation.

The whole thing is incredibly risky, but I cling to the hope that no one else will die if I do this. And every broadcast I give increases the odds that Peter will hear it. I still don't know if I can truly trust him, but he's the only real chance I have at this point. He'll be able to track the message back to me the way Tobias and I did to find Dan Miter back in Philadelphia.

And maybe, just maybe, he'll do the right thing in response.

"Okay." I hate the defeat in my voice.

* * *

I don't try to fight as they connect me to the broadcasting equipment. It wouldn't do any good, and I can't cause Caleb even more pain.

"You'll do some test runs as well as the real message," Brian tells me clearly. "You won't know which is which, but I'll be able to hear what you say each time. If you do _anything_ wrong at all…." His smile is pure evil. "You know what happens to _him_."

I nod, unable to speak. But my eyes drift over Brian's helpers, particularly the two who have been torturing Caleb. As loyal as they are to Brian, they must be under the influence of serum and transmissions, yet they clearly weren't affected by Tobias' broadcast. Why not?

But there's no time to dwell on the question. Instead, I focus on exactly how I'm going to do this.

Anna's words seem to be stuck in my mind – that the emotions behind a message control how effective it is. In this case, I want the message to _look_ like I'm cooperating, without really working. Can I do that by projecting the wrong emotions to go with it? Or would it be better to avoid all emotions? And can I do that right now, with all the fear and anger I'm feeling?

I also think about how I was able to follow the signal back to the person doing the broadcast, and to see thoughts that they weren't actually sending. With both Dan Miter and Tobias, I could tell where they were located, and what their "next" level of thought was. If I can control that layer well, I can make sure that Peter – or anyone else resistant enough – can find me, without my captors knowing that I'm sending anything extra.

Brian signals that it's time to start, and I take a deep breath, calming myself the way I did in my fear landscape at Dauntless. There's no room for error here, even though the first time is probably a practice run.

Very carefully, I transmit exactly the message that Brian gave me. Until the moment I begin, I'm uncertain whether to include the wrong emotions or none at all, but at the last second, I decide to go with as little feeling as possible. Tobias included a wide range in his broadcast, after all, and the entire thing seemed to work very strongly. So, it seems safest to assume that _any_ emotion could potentially make Brian's message more effective.

It's trickier to control the next layer of thought, but I keep it separate from the words, layering it above them as images showing the streets we walked on to get here, and the torture inflicted on Caleb. It's exhausting, but by the time I'm done, I'm hopeful that it worked.

"You're lucky that was a practice run," Brian snarls after I finish. "If you try that in the real thing, he'll fry until his hair is singed."

My heart races, but I keep my expression as blank as possible. "What do you mean?" I ask, trying to sound both desperate and innocent at the same time. There's a chance he's bluffing. "I sent the exact message you wanted."

He smirks, holding his hand up toward Meghan, who's waiting to electrocute my brother again.

"No!" I yell. "I kept my side of the bargain! I'm not going to do it again if you're just going to hurt him anyway."

For a long moment, we hold each other's gaze, before I add, "If you want me to do anything different, tell me what. But I won't cooperate if you don't keep your word."

I can see the hesitation in Brian's eyes, and suddenly I _know_ that he was bluffing. He can't hear the second layer of thought at all, and he probably can't judge how effective a broadcast is, since I'm sure he doesn't have any serum in his system. He simply guessed that I'd try to do _something_, and he's hoping to scare me into not doing it.

But now he's not so sure.

"We'll try it again," he finally snaps, sounding vaguely frightened. I manage not to let any triumph show in my expression. He's just realized that he can't control me. Not completely, anyway. _Not enough._

So, we repeat the process, again and again for a total of eleven times. It's far more tiring than I would have thought, but I'm careful to send the message exactly the same way every time. There's no way of knowing which one is the real one.

After the eleventh pass, they detach me from the equipment and put me back in the other chair, restraining me just as thoroughly as before. But at least they don't hurt Caleb again. Apparently, I was convincing enough for now.

Brian looks tense as he orders Sam and Meghan to watch us. He then takes the others with him and leaves, presumably to see if the townspeople are now willing to follow him. I don't know what result I hope he finds.

******_A/N: So, maybe it's not quite as much of a cliffhanger as the last chapter? Anyway, as I mentioned before, I'm trying very hard to update twice a week throughout the current action sequence, so I don't keep you waiting too long. In the meantime, please take a moment to leave a review. Those always motivate me to post quickly! :-)_**


	16. Chapter 16: Micky - Reaction

**************_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I truly appreciate your support. Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time. You're both wonderful!_**

**Chapter 16: Micky – Reaction**

My heart hammers in panic when the warning signal sounds – the indication that a broadcast is coming. We haven't had one since Tobias' message freed us, and it's _not_ good that they're starting again.

But I turn toward it with everyone else, a lifetime of habits kicking in automatically. It's always meant death for someone to figure out I'm resistant, so I hide it without thought.

When the actual message starts, I know immediately that it's the president. We've been searching for her for hours, with no luck at all, and now it's obvious why. She's been kidnapped, and she's being forced to send this. I wonder how they're making her do it.

I listen to the message itself, but as I always have, I look beyond that too. And right there, clearly laid out for me, is everything Tris _wants_ us to know. Apparently, she's as clever as Tobias said.

Within seconds, I know exactly where she is, and how many guards are keeping her and her brother prisoner, and how they're disguised. And that they're torturing Caleb to make Tris cooperate. The thoughts are amazingly detailed, but I know from experience that most people won't be able to hear them – they'll only receive the main message.

It's going to be tricky to rescue Tris, particularly since I don't know how much of the police force I can trust after this, but I don't even consider not doing it. There's no way I will return to the NUSA days.

When the transmission finishes, I can see the confusion on the faces around me. It's the same uncertainty I saw in Morgantown, when we cleaned up after the ineffective broadcast there. People aren't sure whether to follow what Tris just told them or stick to what Tobias taught them eight months ago.

It makes me wonder if Tris deliberately flubbed the message or if Tobias is really that much better at it. But judging by how detailed the secondary message was, she did this intentionally. _Good for her._ It gives us a chance to fight back.

My first step is to find Mary, since I know my sister is as resistant as I am. I can count on her even if I don't know who else to trust.

She's looking for me, too, of course, and we don't even exchange greetings before we start walking together. We've spent our whole lives communicating wordlessly about the broadcasts.

"We need to find Lauren," she tells me quietly, and I nod. We learned in Morgantown that she was never injected with a receiver, which means she won't have heard the message at all. There's a risk that the crowd turned on her afterwards because of that, but if so, we'd better rescue her first. We'll need her help to get Tris.

It doesn't take long for fighting to break out, with the majority of the town wanting to follow their new directions while some don't. Odds are it will turn bloody soon, but we ignore it for now. The broadcast wasn't strong enough to change these people permanently, so if we can rescue Tris and prevent any more transmissions, the town is likely to return to normal after a while. That's what happened in Morgantown.

As it turns out, Lauren finds us. Her expression is guarded as she approaches.

"I was searching a building," she murmurs so quietly we have to lean close to hear. It's a good precaution, even though no one else is nearby at the moment. "I gather something happened while I was in there."

Mary nods, keeping her voice just as low when she answers. "Same thing as in Morgantown, except…it was _her_." Lauren's eyes widen. "She resigned and appointed Brian Larimer as the new president."

For a moment, we're all silent while Lauren digests that. Then, I whisper, "They're torturing her brother. I know where they are, but there are eight people holding them. We'll need help."

Lauren bites her lip, thinking about that. It's definitely a problem. We can't trust anyone else around here, and I don't know if we can contact anyone from outside the area. Even if we can, there probably isn't time to wait. Not without risking Tris' life – and her brother's, I suppose. I glance at Mary, thinking about how far I'd go to save her if I was in Tris' position, and I know we need to try very hard to rescue both of them.

"I think…" Lauren says slowly, "that we need to arrest some people."

Mary's eyes light up, and she sounds excited as she agrees. "Yes, we should arrest everyone who's against the new president."

It takes me a second to catch up, but then I get it. There's a chance we can trust those people – at least better than anyone else – so it makes sense to gather them together. Plus, if there's no visible opposition left to Brian Larimer when we're done, he's more likely to think that Tris' broadcast worked. And that might buy us time to rescue her.

"Good idea," I mutter with a grin.

* * *

It takes the better part of an hour to round up everyone who opposes Brian Larimer. A number of them fight back as we arrest them, and it's difficult to get myself to be harsh enough with them to take them into custody. But we collect them slowly, one by one.

The worst part is when we go after the other security guards. Those of us from Pittsburgh didn't get here until a few hours before Tris' speech, so most of the group didn't get enough serum to fall for the broadcast. On the bright side, that means we'll have enough people to mount a good rescue operation, but it's a mess in the meantime.

"Come on, Micky," Jeremy insists loudly. "You know this is just like Morgantown. We have to resist it."

"I don't know any such thing," I respond just as loudly, keeping my face the same combination of sternness and blankness that I associate with being brainwashed. "What I know is that Brian Larimer is now our president, and we owe him our full loyalty."

But as Jeremy moves his gun to aim it squarely at me, I hold his gaze fiercely, willing him to understand. And then I blink slowly, three times in a row. It's not enough to attract anyone else's attention, but it's clearly a signal, and it makes him hesitate.

"I don't want to shoot you, Jeremy," I tell him calmly, still locking my eyes with his. "I want us to be on the same side, but for that to happen, you need to listen to me, and to the message our former president sent. Can you do that?"

He swallows, staring back at me as I blink again, three more slow times. He must get it then, because he lowers his gun, his face twisting in distaste as he lets me take it. I grab him by the arm, and the moment that grip is hidden from view, I squeeze three times, repeating my signal. He relaxes very slightly, though to his credit he keeps up a good act, arguing and seeming to resist as I push him to one of the two rooms we're using as our makeshift "prison."

It's the one with the other police officers we can trust. The one where we'll be planning the rescue mission, and as I shove him in the door, I whisper a single line in his ear. I've been doing that with everyone I put in there – a different line for each – so that collectively they know where Tris is and how she's being held. I figure it gives them a head-start on planning while we finish our "arrests."

Lauren is apparently glad of it when she and I finally go in there to "interrogate" our prisoners. Mary guards the door to make sure we're not overheard. And together, we come up with a plan.

******_A/N: To answer a review from a while back, now you know why I provided so much detail on Micky earlier. :-)_**

******_As I've mentioned before, I'm trying very hard to update at least twice a week throughout the current action sequence, so the next update should be posted by Wednesday (maybe sooner). In the meantime, please take a moment to leave a review. Those always motivate me to post quickly, and they have the added benefit of really making my day!  
_**


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